#quick smoke break' with no issue. it's the whole 'how does one ask for kindness' of it all

[ichorblossoms]

yarrow's fun bc he's a doctor bc he wants to help people but then you peel that back a little and the reason he wants to help people is bc he would want others to do the same for him, then you peel that back and realize it's in parts a manifestation of his inability to ask for help in outright as well as feeling like he has to be "worthy" of receiving "good things" (re: outsources his self worth on how much he can help others). so he doesn't ask for the things he wants/wants to see in the world, and instead gives and gives hoping that people will see what he's doing and be inspired to do the same, but he's doesn't communicate this to anyone so he's left perpetually feeling like he's giving more than he receives and that doesn't become an arrogant sort of "i'm better than anyone else" but instead warps into a "i must not be doing enough" that starts the cycle over again. and he's at least semi-aware of this and how it's probably slowly destroying him as well, but doesn't know any other way to be so he just. continues.

guy who asks via actions and not words except nobody knows that so he's constantly left wanting for more. i don't have a conclusion for this i just wanted to talk about them

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 21, part one

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Reunions

All together in The Unclean Realm, The Yunmeng trio find a spot inside where they can sit down and have a proper Yanli-Wuxian reunion, while Jiang Cheng sits across the table watching them. 

For years Jiang Cheng has been rejecting Wei Wuxian's free and easy affection; now Yanli might be the only person Wei Wuxian offers to hug until Wen Yuan comes into his life.

Jiang Cheng is really going through it. He'll do nearly anything for Yanli--except, uh, stay in the goddamn inn with her when she's sick and the Wens are hunting them--and what makes her happiest is Wei Wuxian. He's brought them together, and so he's happy, even though he's excluded from their dynamic. This absolutely fucking kills me.

Here Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian are sweetly pledging to always keep the trio together and put each other first. Neither of them will keep this promise. 

Wei Wuxian will leave first, to take the Wens to the Burial Mounds. Jiang Yanli will leave second, staying in Lanling at Jin Zixuan's request instead of accompanying Jiang Cheng to retrieve Wei Wuxian. Jiang Cheng will be the last to let go.

(more after the cut)

Nie Huaisang comes literally running in, filled with joy at Wei Wuxian's return. When he goes to pat his shoulder Wei Wuxian flinches away.

I feel like something important is happening in this rapid sequence of glances and expressions between Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang. NHS is startled, and WWX realizes he's shown something about himself that he didn't want to show. He glances at Jiang Cheng and back at NHS before laughing and covering his slip with a squeeze of NHS’s hand.

NHS switches from shocked to cheerful just as quickly, helping with the coverup. It’s like they have a quick mutual agreement, rooted in their history of shared shenanigans, to not point out that something is wrong.

Meanwhile, Lan Wangji is wandering around the grounds, having feelings. At this point it's presumably been at least a couple of weeks since their breakup fight. 

He sees Wei Wuxian sitting contemplating his flute, and as he sees him he goes from sort of neutrally apprehensive to full on angry judging, complete with sword clenching. 

Part of this may be that his feelings are hurt over their fight, but the larger issue is his distress over Wei Wuxian's apparent heretical cultivation.  That, at any rate, is what's on his mind when he's selecting music, later in the episode, and when he's selecting flashbacks. 

Party Time

Later, the Nies host an excruciating party to celebrate Wei Wuxian's slaughter of Wen Chao return. Jiang Yanli is sharing a table with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng is sharing a table with his crippling social anxiety. 

Everyone starts grilling Wei Wuxian about his sword, because that's suddenly all anybody cares about even though Jiang Yanli, Nie Huaisang, Meng Yao, and probably plenty of other people don't carry swords most of the time.

Wei Wuxian says "after the Wens caught me, Wen Zhuliu crushed my core, so I can't use my sword any more, too bad so sad, can we change the subject?" And everyone is very understanding and admires his resiliency. HA HA HA HA HA. Of course he doesn't opt for that simple lie, but instead mopes audibly without saying anything.

Nie Huasiang tries to change the subject by asking how he killed Wen Chao. Apparently "I had a sexy ghost mostly flay him" isn't good party chat, though, so neither Wei Wuxian nor Jiang Cheng opts to tell the story. 

Everyone lapses into awkward silence, all the more noticeable because there are no dancers, musicians, or entertainers of any kind at this event. OP has gone to audit-kickoff meetings that were more fun than cultivator banquets.

Moment of Clarity

While the awkwardness builds, we hear the sounds of the Song of Clarity. Lan Wangji is skipping the party, which is part of why Wei Wuxian is so mopey. But instead of sitting and stewing in his anger, Lan Wangji has shifted gears, and is starting to work on his "save Wei Wuxian's soul" plan.

This isn't the God-botherer version of soul saving, however. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian disagree about correct practice, but they both are still practitioners within the same spiritual system, and the majority of their beliefs are closely aligned.

Lan Wangji has powerful magic at his disposal, and now he's taking a step back from his plan of forcing persuading Wei Wuxian to give up heterodoxy, and instead he's preparing to use his magic to offset the consequences of Wei Wuxian's choice.

He still isn't ready to accept that choice, but he's working on it. This is a big moment for Lan Wangji's relationship with Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji is a deeply, deeply uncompromising person, as well as being super bossy, and he’s taking his first steps toward supporting Wei Wuxian’s free agency. 

Wei Wuxian leaves the party in the middle of Yao's toast, saying "I have to see you and your lover all over my tumblr dashboard but I am NOT going to listen to you talk!" He takes his wine to go roam around near Lan Wangji's quarters to pine and feel conflicted.  Lan Wangji has thoughtfully set up a projection scrim to catch his shadow and make the pining easier.

Jiang Cheng comes looking for Wei Wuxian, partly to reprimand him for rudeness and partly to see what the hell is wrong with him. Jiang Cheng is trying very hard to be pleasant. He's bad at it, but he's trying.

Wei Wuxian is trying to be unpleasant and he's pretty good at it. He won't say why he isn't using his sword. He’s obviously super fucking depressed about it, calling his former self childish for liking to spar, and only smiling once during the whole exchange.

He finally tells Jiang Cheng that he will always want to do the opposite of what Jiang Cheng tells him.  Jiang Cheng lets this go with an eyeroll.

(Point Break Quote Alert)

But actually this is a sign of trouble, right here in River City, with a capital T and that rhymes with P and that stands for abandoning the Jiang Clan. Wei Wuxian has just told Jiang Cheng he has no intention of obeying him; not just about the sword, but in general. That's no way for a disciple to talk. 

OP has nothing to say about this gif. OP watches gif over and over and over and over

Wei Wuxian ends the conversation by tapping Jiang Cheng's chest with his flute and then walking away. The (still nameless) flute has no problem with this - does it, like Subian, recognize Jiang Cheng as an extension of Wei Wuxian?

The next day, Wei Wuxian is chilling in his room, looking ungodly sexy in his bold slashed robe, holy frack. I mean, he is sex-on-toast at all times, but the cut of his post-burial-mounds combo is particularly heart-stopping when he decides to stick a knee or two out. 

He's meditating and flashing back to being in the burial mounds, where he was also meditating. I admire his ability to fractally meditate about meditating. 

Chenqing

He didn't put a sock on the doorknob, so Jiang Yanli comes in and startles him. He brandishes his flute at her before calming down. The flute definitely does not see her as an extension of Wei Wuxian, because when she touches it, it smokes and then knocks her out of the frame so fast it's comical.

Did they put her in a jerk vest for that shot?

Wei Wuxian hides the flute from her, freaked out by its behavior. She, however, is unfazed, and gives him the first & only affirmation he's gotten about his new cultivation path, and says the flute is "like Mother's Zidian."  She kind of walks him through the whole "first class spiritual tool" concept, beaming with approval and telling him he must name the flute.  

Jiang Yanli is hardcore Jiang Clan, seriously. Freedom and impossibility. You survived 3 months of mystery trauma and now you're all fucked up? We'll roll with it. You have a demon flute now? Rock on. You're going to use necromancy to beat the other clans in a group hunt? Gold star for you.

He names the flute Chenqing, which @hunxi-guilai​ translates and explains in depth over here.

Bichen

Lan Wangji has finished practicing the Song of Clarity, and regardless of whether it's had an effect on Wei Wuxian, he himself seems much calmer. 

As Wei Wuxian contemplates Chenqing, Lan Wangji contemplates Bichen and remembers Wei Wuxian's assertions about resentful energy way back in Gusu summer school. 

This time when he grips his sword, it's loosely, as if he's made some progress with his anger.

Soup

Jiang Yanli sits Wei Wuxian down for some soup, and talks to him about what's going on with him, saying he's changed. He insists he's fine and works very hard to be convincing.

She's not convinced but says she won't press him, and then abruptly shifts tone and works very hard to act like everything is fine. She leaves, taking a lot of soup with her, and Wei Wuxian remarks that it's unfair she is giving so much to Jiang Cheng. But of course, some of it is secretly for Jin Zixuan.

Everything isn't fine, as Wei Wuxian scream-meditates with resentful energy just rolling off of him. He's got some of the dark energy stored in the Yin sword in his bag of holding, but I get the impression that a lot of it is just stored in his body.

Club Ruohan

At some point in the episode we stop in to check on Wen Ruohan. He and his wind machine are mad that Wen Chao is dead. 

Meanwhile, his interpretive dances with the Yin iron now turn his puppets into...Klingons? Sure, why not. 

Literal Stand-Up Meeting 

Jiang Cheng needs Wei Wuxian at games night a meeting and comes running to Jiang Yanli to find him. He is freaking out and she tells him to chill. 

No matter what fuckery is going on in the world, Jiang Yanli is going to find herself a nice little outdoor table and she is going to sit her ass down and have some tea and civilized lady activity. Queen.

This shot of the meeting is composed so nicely. The blocking (placement of actors) in this scene encapsulates the familial dynamics, and I’ll talk about that as soon as I finish admiring Jiang Cheng’s proportions. 

Here we have four clans represented by four family pairs around the game war table. The Jin cousins, despite their differing personalities, are side by side, matchy-matchy, in lockstep. Jin Zixuan lets Jin Zixun do the talking for him, so maintains his own rep as a reasonable guy.  

The Nie brothers are even closer together, also in matching greys, Nie Huaisang giving all of his attention to his brother/clan leader. You can see his careful watching of his brother's temper...not fearful for himself, but fearful for Mingjue.

The Lan brothers have a growing distance between them; they are in different colors (which is pretty usual for them), and Lan Wangji is standing well away from his brother and the rest of the group. Partly this is his personality, but it's also symbolic of his growing distance from his brother and other proper cultivators. He's carrying WWX-related secrets, and he's wrestling with what he's learned.  

While Nie Huaisang is looking at Mingjue, Lan Xichen is turning around to see what's up with his own volatile sibling.

Lastly you have Jiang Cheng, alone in the room, with his shidi nowhere to be found, and seriously feeling the heat because of his isolation. 

He's alone in his purple, but the color value (lightness/darkness) of his robes exactly matches Xichen's. 

And Xichen, bless him, makes a point of speaking to him respectfully as a fellow clan leader, gives him a path out of the "where is your brother" conversation, and is just generally his kind and helpful self with Jiang Cheng.

Next: Awkwardness Increases!

[theanimeview]

My Nitpick Issue with Sherlock in Moriarty the Patriot

By: Peggy Sue Wood | @pswediting​

It may surprise some of you to know that I have degrees in book reading and writing. While earning those degrees I studied one specific time period more than the others--that being British Literature from late-17th/18th century through the early 20th century. This is to say that it is a time period I know a little more about than you might think. And early 1900s is probably my favorite period out of that timeline, particularly England under Victoria’s rule. 

And, perhaps, because of this strange obsession I have with the period, I presently have a small bone to pick over Moriarty the Patriot. 

It’s not the minor inaccuracies of the clothes, nor the adaptation of character designs. It’s not even the adjustment to social tendencies depicted that are more Japanese than British-English of any period thus far either--because those kinds of things happen frequently in adaptations. And it's not Moriarty or his backstory too! Because, again, this is an adaptation, and liberties will be taken to fit the new story (besides, even in the original works by Doyle the man’s backstory was inconsistent). 

My issue is with the character of Sherlock and his supposed “deductions.” Well, maybe more accurately it's with the writing of Sherlock. 

You see, Sherlock is almost always introduced the same way in an adaptation. He makes a judgment about someone (usually about Watson or the Watson stand-in) and then proves it using his observational skills. This introduction is important because it clarifies that the world of the characters is one based on where common sense and science not only work but make sense. His deductions are logical and based on some semblance of rationality. Here is an excerpt from the original novel: 

“I knew you came from Afghanistan. From long habit the train of thoughts ran so swiftly through my mind, that I arrived at the conclusion without being conscious of intermediate steps. There were such steps, however. The train of reasoning ran, `Here is a gentleman of a medical type, but with the air of a military man. Clearly an army doctor, then. He has just come from the tropics, for his face is dark, and that is not the natural tint of his skin, for his wrists are fair. He has undergone hardship and sickness, as his haggard face says clearly. His left arm has been injured. He holds it in a stiff and unnatural manner. Where in the tropics could an English army doctor have seen much hardship and got his arm wounded? Clearly in Afghanistan.' 

How does this prove we are in a world where common sense and logic works? Well, because he didn’t pull any of these deductions from thin air. He just used his eyes and common knowledge to make a quick judgment. 

In the example above, everything that Sherlock assumes is true and based on reasonable assumptions about the time period and about what he can observe of the person before him. 

The tan of Watson’s skin is something he notes because London is usually dark and wet around this season, so you’re unlikely to get a tan. The way the man walks and stands is also a thing he can observe, and fresh military men walk very differently from the average citizen or gentleman. These two observations, coupled with noticeable injury and limp could lead one to think that maybe he has just come back from the current war (the First Anglo-Afghan War). Of course, maybe he wasn’t injured in the war at all--maybe something else happened; however, you can make a pretty good guess that an abled bodied soldier would not be home and looking for a room in the middle of war-times if something hadn’t happened to him on the battlefield.

My point is that all of Sherlock’s deductions come from observing details, paying attention to the basics of the world (such as the ongoing war or understanding rigor mortis), and using your senses. Sure, there may be a few things the average person doesn’t know that Sherlock does, but that’s because Sherlock has studied different things and to a more serious degree. The level of understanding is different, but not impossible to achieve in one’s own time or effort. And, as another note, Sherlock is not perfectly observant all of the time. There are plenty of examples of him needing to take breaks, of him closing his eyes to block out distractions so he can better focus on what someone is saying, and of him smoking to zone out for a bit so that he can come back to a problem with fresh eyes at a later time. 

It’s absolutely vital to Sherlock’s character, and the original story, that all of the deductions are based on the “possible,” which is why the introduction of Sherlock in Episode 6 of this adaptation immediately irritated me. Here is the scene:

Side note:  I’m sorry it’s shown as a poorly made gif--I literally could not find a copy of the clip with English subtitles on YouTube so I could not include it as a video. If you want to look at it in the episode itself, it starts at about the 13:00 minute mark. EPISODE LINK)

Here is what bothers me so much. Why would a mathematician be checking to see if the staircase on a ship fits the golden ratio? More importantly, why would that in any way matter to Moriarty as a character? Based on what we’ve seen so far of this character, and we’ve had 6 and 1/2 episodes to define him so far, none of Sherlock’s statement makes sense here. 

Like, at all. (And I know that this also happens in the manga--doesn’t make sense there either.)

You know what would make sense though? For the time period and the character development we’ve seen of Moriarty thus far? A pause to consider-- and maybe even compare--staircases on the ship between the main steps for passengers and the steps for commoners or staff. 

Why would that make sense? Oh, thank you so much for asking. Time to get real nerdy here for a minute: 

Class issues were a serious problem in Victorian England (as they are now, though in a different way). These issues were not necessarily the same as depicted in the show but it was still consistently present throughout the society as a whole. (A good, short read on the subject can be found here for those of you interested: Social Life in Victorian England.)

One way that this issue came out was in the very architecture of homes. In Victorian England, nobleman homes and estates were built with main staircases, where the residents and guests walked, and servent staircases, where the staff and other temporary employees walked. The difference in these stairs was huge, as the servant staircases were basically death traps. 

In the late 1800s, a mathematician (and architect) named Peter Nickolson figured out the exact measurements that would generally ensure a comfortable and easy walk upstairs: 

BTW: Here is a great video on the subject and how they were death traps: Staircases in Victorian England

However, Nickolson’s math and designs were not used regularly in the design of houses for years to come. 

By the setting of the story, and given Moriarty’s interest in maths, his understanding of class issues, and beyond--this kind of knowledge would make far more sense than searching for the golden ratio in a man-made set of stairs. 

Moreover, the golden ratio is generally interesting to mathematicians (to my understanding) because it can be seen in nature frequently. It is a pattern found everywhere, from the way that petals grow on flowers, to how seashells form, to freaking hurricane formations! So why on Earth would Moriarty be interested in an architect's choice to use such a ration when planning a staircase? 

He wouldn’t, I believe. Nor would Sherlock generally be able to make that assumption based on his time gazing at the staircase, distance from said staircase, nor angle. 

So what can he deduce, if not that? Well, he may be able to deduce that Moriarty is a nobleman based on his attire. He may also be able to deduce that the man is a student based on age, as in an earlier episode we were told he’s quite young to be teaching in university and appears close in age to his students. Maybe he’s a student of architecture? But, if he’s a nobleman--as we suspect he is based on his attire--then it's unlikely he works a labor-intensive job or one close to it. So, he must be in academia for academic reasons such as mathematics. Physics during that time, as an academic subject, focused more on lighting, heat, electricity, magnetism, and such. And, Sherlock notes that Moriarty is specifically looking at the stairs, not the lights of the ship. 

So, BAM! I’ve deduced Moriarty is a young nobleman who is likely a student of mathematics. Perhaps he’s recently had a lesson on staircases or another algebraic concept that’s caused him to pause with momentary interest. 

It makes a heck of a lot more sense than finding a “golden ratio” in a man-planned and man-made staircase... don’t you think? And, maybe, we can even deduce that rather than a student he’s a professor who has just thought up an interesting lesson--though that would be a BIG jump from the data we’ve been provided here. 

Deductions that come from major leaps in logic make it seem like Sherlock is doing magic... and he is--because it is magical that people find it impressive or believable. It’s not. And I would argue that the original character would find it insulting based on his comments to Watson regarding being compared to other fictional detectives.

Pay in mind, I have this feeling about several adaptations, so my judgment on Moriarty the Patriot isn’t technically exclusive. It just hit me so hard in my first viewing that I felt I needed to share because generally, this issue of deductions becoming magic rather than stemming from logic doesn’t happen in the first two minutes of meeting Sherlock Holmes.

So... yeah. Thanks for coming to my absurd history/lit lesson through Moriarty the Patriot. I appreciate you sticking with me to the end and hope it was enjoyable.

You can watch the series on Funimation.com right now at: https://www.funimation.com/shows/moriarty-the-patriot 

Overall, it’s a pretty good series; although there was a lot more child-murder than I expected...

[blackstonesandtrapnest]

Hi could you write some sfw&nsfw head cannons for nana osaki x f!reader? 🥺💓💕 Thank u sm!!

Thanks for the request anon and yes I will :) I was waiting for someone to request headcanons for her ^_^ I hope these are to your liking!

~~SFW~~

Approaching Nana is not an easy task since she comes off as aloof and intimidating yet beautiful to most people. But don’t worry! Nana is quite easy to talk to and whether you meet her on your own or through a mutual friend, she’ll accept you with semi-open arms.

Don’t get things twisted though. It takes a lot for Nana to open up to someone and she doesn’t talk about herself to people she doesn’t know. If you ask questions or get curious, she’ll only answer so much and she’ll tell you if she doesn’t wanna talk about whatever the subject is. In return, Nana won’t ask you anything personal about your own life or past unless you bring it up in conversation.

How Nana opens/warms up to you depends on when you meet her in life. If you meet her while she’s in Tokyo after her break-up with Ren, then you’ll have an easier time since she’s at a more stable time in her life and is trying to strike it big in the music industry. If you meet her after Ren’s death and her departure from Tokyo, getting close to her will be pretty difficult because of all the trauma and pain she’s gone through. Either way, you’ll have to prove yourself to Nana if you wanna get in her good graces.

Nana has never dated a woman before so if you wanna explore your attraction to her, you’ll have to make the first move. She’ll be flustered and sputter a bit but she’ll come around when you give her enough time. If you really wanna get Nana’s attention, be bold and unapologetic about it. She might complain and bitch at you but anyone can tell she’s not really mad. Go easy on the poor gal will ya?

Sadly being with Nana isn’t gonna be all sunshine and rainbows. Balancing her career and personal life is one of the biggest struggles she has to face daily and there will be times when she’ll choose BLAST over you. Nana will not abandon her career for the sake of your relationship but she doesn’t want to lose you either. If you have a career of your own, then that makes things much better but there will be some tension if you’re better at balancing things than she is.

Another flaw of being with Nana is how possessive and manipulative she is. Once you establish yourself as a constant in her life, Nana’s not letting go of you. She’s like a pit bull that’s locked onto you and she’ll bite anyone that tries to hurt you. Nana’s possessiveness isn’t as straightforward as Shin’s and you probably won’t even realize that she has this trait unless you’re very good at observing and reading between the lines. But Nana’s possessiveness is smothering and it can feel like you’re catering to her all the time like you’re some kind of pet. She also suffers from anxiety, often having panic attacks but she tries to keep it a secret from you so she doesn't worry you.

Once Nana gets used to you and being in a relationship with you, she’ll start taking charge and initiating things more often. She doesn’t want you doing all the work because she’ll feel guilty which is due to how independent she is.

If you’re the kind of gal who takes no bullshit and will call Nana out to nip things in the bud, prepare yourself for an argument that will most likely end in tears. It will most likely be similar to the fight Nana had with Shin in Episode 36. The best way to resolve things with Nana is to stick to your guns and not fall for her tactics. Be the bigger person and Nana will respect you more.

Nana’s toxic traits and independence stem from her abandonment issues caused by her mother and Ren. She doesn’t want to lose any more people in her life and she doesn’t wanna be hurt again. But Nana is fully aware of her bad traits and wants to change but doesn’t know how to. She’s so used to running away from her problems that she’s made an art form out of it. Nana facing her issues head on will take a firm hand as well as patience from you. Show her that she’s not alone as well as support her wholeheartedly and she’ll be by your side, purring like a kitten.

~~NSFW~~

1. Nana's only had one sexual partner (Ren) and she's never had sex with a woman before so when you two start to become intimate, you'll have to take the lead for a while since Nana has no idea what she's doing and she'll just be fumbling around which will lead to giggles between you two.

2. Nana's sex drive is pretty average and she's generally cautious too. But since she doesn't have to worry about pregnancy this time around, she'll definitely take more risks and can get pretty wild if she's pushed far enough. Nana prefers to have sex in the privacy of her own home and if you suggest having sex somewhere else, she'll get flustered and yell at you but she won't turn you down if you take a more physical approach. The only places Nana is willing to have sex with you is her dressing room, backstage after a concert, and in your car. You try to suggest anywhere else and you'll get shut down with a quickness.

3. Once Nana gets used to having sex with you, she's gonna start being more dominate and initiating sex more often. She prefers giving over receiving and she prefers to use her fingers and tongue over sex toys but she isn't opposed to using them either. Nana's fingering game is on point and if you like it rough and fast, she's perfect for you! Nana's tongue game is just as good if not better and she'll be between your legs for so long that they'll go numb!

4. As for sex toys, Nana's never used them before so you'll have to take her to a sex shop and show her the various things that can be used to spice up your sex life. Nana will be quite awkward and embarrassed since she's not one to discuss sex so openly so she needs to be eased into the experimentation. Patience is a virtue with her!

5. Nana will definitely have her own collection of vibrators, dildos, and strap-ons and yes they will be big. Size queen anyone? But she will definitely have plenty of lube as well to make you comfortable. Nana also loves spanking, handcuffs, blindfolding, and choking. Her main no-no is anal. She doesn't wanna give or receive that! The most she'll do is fingering but that's all you'll get in that category! As far as dirty talk is concerned, Nana doesn't like to be called degrading names nor does she like to use them. Don't even try the humiliation thing or Nana won't be fucking you for quite a while!

6. When receiving, Nana will be putty in your hands. She'll moan, beg, and gasp as her orgasms make her body shake and quiver. She'll be having spasgasms instead and she'll be singing in a whole different way! Nana obviously likes it rough and she loves to be manhandled so don't worry about hurting her when it comes to using the toys. You'll definitely be using hers instead of yours because she likes them big and don't hold back either! If things ever do get out of hand between you two, there's always a safeword and it's BLAST as one would expect.

7. The most rounds Nana will do with you is 2 but to make up for it, she'll make sure that they're as long as possible so you'll be fully sated and satisfied especially if your sex drive is higher than hers. If she's too tired to have sex with you, then you'll have to settle for masturbating. If Nana's not into it, it's not happening at all.

8. One of Nana's secret fantasies is sexting and having phone sex. But she's ashamed to admit it because of her status as a musician and because she's too worried about anything on her phone or yours getting leaked out to the public for everyone to see. If you decide to initiate things by sending her a dirty picture/text or calling her while masturbating, Nana will literally drop her phone in shock and have a shocked Pikachu face. Nana.exe has blue-screened! But she'll come around eventually so don't worry. However there are gonna be some ground rules to prevent anyone else from seeing/overhearing you two or leaking everything to the public. If that ever happened, Nana would be mortified!

9. Aftercare with Nana is the only time she'll be slow and sensual with you. It'll also be one of the few times she starts opening up to you, talking to you about things she normally wouldn't talk about with anyone else. Nana's way of giving aftercare is taking a luxurious shower with you and massaging your sore muscles while whispering sweet praises to you. Afterwards, she'll cuddle with you while having a smoke. If you smoke as well, then she'll share a cigarette with you which is very rare for her. Nana definitely lets you get away with things she wouldn't allow anyone else to do but that's only one of the many signs of how much she loves you and even though she acts like a tsundere about it, she'll do anything to keep you in her life and she'll always love you no matter what happens!

[hauerr77-and-a-dream]

Crazy idea but, how would the safe house crew react to their S/O being related to Perseus, like son/daugther?

This was a fun one, sorry it took me a little longer to get this one done, but I hope you enjoy!

Safe House Crew Reacting to Their S/O being Perseus’s Kid

Warnings: none!

Before we dive in, I figured I needed to lay out some context for this S/O as the answers would change based on their current relationship with Perseus, so...

For this version, the S/O would be working with the CIA, having left behind Russia and their father, Perseus. After they had found out what he was capable of, they knew they had to stop him, wanted to cut off all ties to him, they didn’t want to be associated with him ever again.

Adler:

Okay so we all know this man has trust issues. When he first met his S/O, he would’ve been skeptical of them, especially given their Russian accent

The two would’ve spent a lot of time together and he doesn’t realize he is head over heels till Sims points it out to him

In this field, developing and maintaining a relationship is hard enough, but for his S/O, it’s worth it. The two have no secrets from each other... at least so he thought

Alders first reaction is to be angry. He hates being lied to, being deceived, and will very quickly express these thoughts to his S/O, demanding an answer. Was everything between the two of them a lie?!

“Why didn’t you fucking tell me?!”

“You never asked.”

Definitely would excuse himself for a smoke break, needing to process his thoughts. He wanted to laugh at fates sense of humour, causing him to fall in love with the kid of the man he spent his whole life devoted to killing

When he finally sees that his S/O isnt proud of this fact AND that he hurt them with his reaction, he gets over it.

The fates may work in twisted ways, but he would be damned if he would let them take his S/O away from him

Woods:

Thinks his S/O is fucking around with him at first

“Yeah, good one. And my moms the queen of fucking England”

Upon realizing his S/O is not joking, Woods feels very confused, and maybe even a little hurt.

He guess he can understand why you would keep it from him, I mean, he does know he has a tendency to overreact sometimes, but he thought he knew everything about his S/O

Don’t be surprised if a small fight breaks out between the two. But, after giving each other some space, Woods realizes that the he and his S/O had gone through so much together, he wasn’t about to loose them over something like this

Would likely make a sultry joke after apologizing, wanting to see his S/O smile again

“How is it that you just got ten times sexier now that I know your dad would disapprove of me?”

Hudson:

Honestly? Hudson probably knew already. I mean, think of the files they must have about this person!

He is a skeptical of them at first, but the more he gets to know his S/O, he comes to realize that they would never double cross him, or the CIA

After he falls in love and his S/O never brings up their father, he begins to feel slightly bad knowing such a personal thing about them

Because of this, he never brings up the subject. If his S/O doesn’t want to talk about their dad, the Russian Warlord Perseus, to him outside of work in their personal time, they don’t have to

When his S/O does finally decides to tell him, upon seeing how hard it was for them to get through the sentence, he would cut them off

“I know, darling. It’s okay, that’s okay, I still love you.”

Mason:

Mason has no idea how to react.

He would probably be slightly hurt at first, knowing his S/O kept this from him. After all, they knew everything about him, all the trauma he’s been through, and they never told him?

He would also be quick to get over that feeling, he remembers what it is like having to share those kind of things about yourself. He realizes that he is honoured that his S/O finally felt comfortable and safe around him to share that detail

Would also probably make a joke, wanting to reassure his S/O that they could trust him, and that he understood

“So what I’m hearing is that it’s your mother I should be asking approval for when I finally get you a ring?”

Lazar:

Lazar would be slightly surprised to find this out about his S/O, but honestly, it doesn’t shock him

He doesn’t need to ask his S/O where their loyalties lie, he’s been with them out in the field, that’s what caused him to fall in love in the first place

Lets his S/O know that they can always talk to him, if they ever wanted to talk more about their dad, good or bad memories, he was there

Lazar would gain a new respect for his S/O, he couldn’t imagine being in their shoes, trying to take down their own father. And my god does he love how strong his S/O is? How did he get so lucky?

Sims:

His first reaction would be to try and crack a joke, trying to lighten the mood

“And I thought my family was complicated!”

He wouldn’t pressure his S/O to talk about it if they didn’t want to, so he would avoid being the one to bring it up again

Respects the hell out of his S/O for all the work they were doing to bring down Perseus, and he is glad that he can be right by their side to help them

Park:

Park had her suspicions about her S/Os family, whenever the topic of parents had come up, her S/O would always find a way to doge the question

Park also picked up on the fact that her S/O was very familiar with how Perseus conducted himself, ways that someone could only know if they were close to him

When she realizes she is falling, hard, for this person, she brings up the topic of family again, curious about her hunch

She would ask the question is such a way that conveyed all of the feelings she had for her S/O, that she wanted to get to know the real person she was falling in love with

When her S/O tells her the truth, confiding in her and her trust, does she realizes just how head over heels she is.

Bell:

Yeah, who the fuck do you think set these two up in the first place???

Talk about awkward when Adler introduces “Bell” to them

[rebelcap]

We are not just friends — Part 19

Chris Evans x bi!latina!character (Sofia is a people of color, she’s brown.)

Chris and Sofia meet when their best friends started dating, it all started at friends with loads of bumps on the road.

Warnings: drinking, smoking, drug use (weed), assault, Chris being Steve Rogers, commitment issues, my girl Sofia kinda messy.

This is slow burn at its best, at least emotionally.

Series masterlist

Sofía had definitely closed up, she became a recluse in her own apartment and the only thing she did was go to work and back. She felt mostly okay, she wasn't crying her eyes out or seeing a random photo of Chris and crying. 

She was hurt, deeply hurt but all she did was avoid thinking about him. This wasn't like the first time they broke up, this felt different. Like, this was it.

She loses one of her most precious friends and gains another failed relationship, another ex that probably will end up resenting her because they couldn't reach her and when she opens up she gets shot down. 

After Chris…

Sofia was sure that she was meant to be alone and she was mostly okay with it.

On the other hand, Christopher was devastated—he honestly thought she was the one, he felt it in his gut, his heart, his whole being made him feel that she was the one. She just kept pushing him away in all the ways that she could find and he took it, until he couldn't anymore and that alone made him feel like he was failing her, he didn't know how to help her and she won't let him. 

They were so far away from each other—it was exhausting and the fact that he had just started talking with Jenny again made him feel insecure about his relationship. 

But he love her with all his fucking heart that it hurt his whole body knowing that she might ever be able to love him back the way he does. 

"I miss him," Sofia said, putting her eyeliner on. She was going out as Amanda was very pregnant to even move. 

"He does too." She said rubbing her belly. "It's been, how much time now?," 

"Four months , so he's dating Jenny. That's what I heard…" Sofia tried not to get emotional about it but… Fuck. 

"Yeah, Luke told me about it… but it's  going anywhere and he knows. Not sure about her though." 

"He always gets back with all his exes. Got us on rotation, fucking idiot. He wants to commit but he can't actually commit with anyone. Then in the one with commitment issues," Sofia shook her head and let out a groan. "I love him, I swear to you I love him, he's a good friend but he's a terrible boyfriend."

"Right back at you," Amanda laughed and Sofia had to, because she was absolutely right about her too. 

"I don't go back with all my exes, though" 

"Mostly don't, Chris it's the exception." 

"Because I thought it was going to be okay for once." She made a face and began putting the make up back on her little make up bag. "I can't believe he's back with Jenny, she's funny and intelligent and great—but God, I don't fucking like her." Sofia said, throwing the make-up bag on her bag and pout. "I don't want to go out now. More because I know he's here in Boston and it's not leaving until next year and I'm seeing his brother today."

"You don't wanna run into him?," 

"Of course I wanna run into him, I miss him so much but I'm totally not over him yet." Sofia explained sitting on the toilet seat looking at Amanda that was leaning in the door frame. "I don't know if I'm ever going to be over Chris."

"I'm sad now, you're make me feel sad and my boy too—

"I'm sorry—

"Don't be, I'm feeling sad because I can't go out with you and drag Chris's name all over Boston even though he's great but he left you."

Sofia smiled looking down and felt Amanda's hand running through her hair and she sighed deeply. 

-

Sofía was vibing or at least trying, the place was comfy and she knew almost all the people that were there—witch where all of fucking Christopher closest friends and some random girls that the guys bring from somewhere.

Apparently he wasn't coming, which Sofia didn't know if she was actually relieved or not. 

"Jesus fucking christ." She murmured to herself tried of her own fucking mind noise. She stood up and walked to the little bar area and started pouring a drink, straight whiskey and downed it all and poured herself a second and then a third walking away with the drink on her hand.

He saw her first, saw her leaning on a wall, talking with some dude —younger than her, brunette and with a fucking man bun, he was built, lean and tall. She laughed, at whatever fucking thing he said she laughed and looked at him with the little fucking straw on her lips. Oh, boy he was mad. 

Chris rubbed his face and went about to hang up with his friends and mingle a little bit. But he couldn't stop looking at their direction every fucking second. 

"They sure look cozy," Luke said and Chris looked at him. "Did you talk to her yet?" 

"I can't talk to her, man." Chris muttered and downed the warm beer on his hand and his friend handed him another. "What I'm supposed to say?, hey, long time remember when I dump you because I'm a fucking imbecile and i cant fucking wait." He said dropping sarcasm on every word. 

"That's a good opening," Luke laughed and Chris just stared at him, murdering eyes directed at his very own best friend. 

"Who the fuck is that?" he asked referring to the guy she was talking with. 

"A friend of Ryan's cousin." 

Chris made a face and rolled his eyes. "The fuck he doing here?" 

"It's Ryan's house, dude," Luke said and was a little amazed at Chris, he definitely hasn't seen him like this in a really long long time. "Man. .." Luke said, kind of amazed. "You're still head over heels in love with her, don't you?" 

"I wonder what gave it away," Chris said, drinking his beer and rubbing his face. "imma talk to her,"

"Ah—don't think it's-uh," Luke was looking at them and saw them share a kiss, it was quick and he kinda went for it. 

"What?," Chris said turning around and saw them just breaking the kiss and that's the moment Sofia saw him. 

And her stomach dropped, her whole ass body dropped—

"Oh, woow. Are you okay?," Alex, asked her when her knees buckled and he caught her. 

"Ah, yeah, yes. Just," She smiled at him and looked at her empty glass. "Little drunk, imma get more—" Sofia made an attempt to leave but Alex, bless his fucking kind heart, offered her to get her those drinks and something to eat. 

As soon he leaves that was a cue to Chris, who literally strutted to the wall she was leaning and Slfia just… started.

"Hi," He said, hands on his pockets as Sofia kept looking at him. "How-how are you?" 

Sofoa kept quiet and simply walked away from him, ahe couldn't possibly do the whole small talk bullshit they alwaus did and it emeded up al fucking badly. Chris looked at her go and he was the one that stormed after her. 

"Sofia, come on," Chris said and walked besides her. "Sof, it's going to be like this?" 

"I can't talk with you Chris, like…" She sighed and sat down on a bench, they weren't completely away from the people and there were some girls sitting on a couch messing around with their phones and minding their business.

"Why not?," He asked, looking at her. He just wanted to reach out and hug her, he missed her. 

Sofía finally looked up at him and asked him, "How's things with Jenny?," Chris looked away and rubbed his beard and stayed quiet at her question for a moment. 

"We're not together anymore," He said and Sofia made a face and sigh. "What about you?" 

"What about me?" 

"Are you seeing someone?" He asked looking at the bar where the dude was talking with Ryan, probably giving him the talk. 

"Look, Sofia is off limits."

"What?, why? She told me she's single." Alex asked and looked back at where she was supposed to be and found Chris looking back at him with that death stare he did when he was annoyed. 

"Yes, she is. But it's also Chris ex and they still didn't figure it out and he's my friend, so kid. Off limits," 

"Do you care,?" She asked, sassy. 

"If I didn't I wouldn't be asking, wouldn't I?," He asked right back at her, also sassy. 

"Last time I tried that, it didn't go well," Sofia said, rolling her eyes at him. "And the one before that, worse." She said at their obvious relationship and Chris just grunted. But couldn't blame her, it was a mess… 

"Yeah," He murmured and dug into his pockets and fished out a packet of cigarettes. "want one?" He offered her and she took it. 

"Thanks, we should smoke outside though." Sofia said walking out to the backyard where the other guys were doing the grilling. 

They waved at them but kept their distance, not Scott though because it was Scott. 

"So…" He said walking up to them and putting a hand on each shoulder. "You two are actually talking," 

"Not really," Sofia rolled her eyes and Chris grunted again. 

"Sof," He said, putting those little blue eyes to work on him and it worked, of course it will work. 

"Okay, okay…" She agreed and lit up the cigarette giving Chris a look. Thinking that the moment she found him unattractive was when she stopped looking at men all together and dedicated herself to pussy forever. 

He was so fucking attractive, jesus fuck. 

"Either way, is there a point here?," She asked looking at both of them. "We're good, I guess," She shrugged. 

"Are we really good?," Chris asked. 

"I don't know, you left me." Sofia took a drag and Scott made a face.

"And that's my cue to leave, I love you both." He said and Sofia laughed. 

"And I do too." She wink at him and Chris was staring at her, waiting for Scott to leave. 

"I shouldn't have done that—

"Chris, don't." She waves a hand at him. "You seriously need a new woman on your life, this thing about getting back with all your exes ia getting old as fuck."

"Ouch," He said and actually smile and so did she. "I do miss you, you know that." 

"I miss you too, come on. We were really good friends for a moment there," 

"Yeah," He smiled and bit his bottom lip, shaking his head. "We fucked up, don't we?" 

"Yeah, and I told you so."

"You did. Guess I didn't listen," 

"You never listen, stubborn Gemini man." She said punching him on the arm. 

"Yeah, you're right but I don't regret it though."

"Me neither," She smiled and sigh, just thinking for a moment. "So, there's a wedding coming?" 

"You mean ours?," He joked and Sofia barked a laugh. 

"I mean our better halves, idiot. Besides, we will be divorced in the first four months."

"What?, come on I gave us at least… a year," Chris saif and Sofia made a face, disagreeing. 

"Six months, tops." She said and put her hand on his month. "The thought of me being a wife, ew."

Chris laughed out loud. "You look pretty in white," 

"I look pretty in everything because I'm pretty," She rolled her eyes with a smile. "But, jokes aside. Do you see yourself married?" 

"I like the idea of marriage but… Honestly, I don't know."

"I preferred to have a kid before marriage, it's just a fucking paper in the end. You can divorce, I think I'll know when I have a kid, if I have a kid."

"We never had this talk before," Chris said and pointed at a little bench for them to sit. "About us," 

"Did you think about it?" Sofia asked as she sat down beside him. Chris was holding his beer between his legs and looking forward. 

"Yeah, I mean…" He looked at her. "I have never been this in love with someone like I am with you, so yeah. I did, a couple of times actually."

Sofia was dumbfounded at what he said, and she did toyed with the idea a couple of times… 

"I almost propose to you, actually…" He laughed and Sofias head snapped so hard to look at him. "After you met my mom, I bought that ring you liked. I thought that maybe someday…" He shrugged and Sofia's eyes watered up and just stared forward. 

"Chris, I…" She whispered and he looked at her. 

"What's wrong?," He asked, frowning. 

"What's wrong!?," She said, wiping her tears. "Dude, are you hearing what you are saying to me?."

Chris realized it at that moment, what he did. Bomb after bomb he just dropped on her. 

"Sorry, I got carried away." He muttered slouching on the bench and drank the rest of his beer. 

"You'll find someone, Chris…" Sofia said in a small voice. 

"Already found her," He muttered and stood up and walked away. 

[freckledoriya]

“h2whoa” (midoriya x reader fic)

PAIRING: izuku midoriya x reader

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol

PROMPT: “I’ve never seen someone as stunning as you.”

WORDS: 2.3k

A/N: here’s my submission for @bnhabookclub’s mermay event! special thanks to @k-atsukidayo​ for helping with this! 

feel free to send me requests HERE

You knew that you shouldn’t have come to this party. It really wasn’t your scene: the music blasting, deep bass shaking the corners of the house, clouds of smoke looming above your head, cheap beer spilling onto the hardwood floors. But it was your high school graduation party, and you felt some kind of cosmic teen obligation to attend the rager. It’s not that you didn’t love your classmates, you absolutely did. And you wished on everything possible that you’ll keep in touch after graduation, especially with your long-time crush, Izuku Midoriya.

Midoriya has been one of those crushes that slowly devours your soul until he’s unintentionally claimed your entire heart. It started your first year when you shyly asked for some tutoring for an upcoming combat exam. You knew his incessant note-taking would prove to be useful. Plus… you really just wanted an excuse to talk to the cute, quiet kid in class. After some blushing and stammering, he agreed to help. You fell headfirst as he hesitantly showed you some of the notes he had already taken on your quirk, a quirk you had always thought was nothing to brag about: a mermaid quirk. 

Sure, it sounded wonderful-- a true fantasy come to life. But the reality was that when on land, your quirk was rendered pretty much useless. You did have some water-bending abilities that you could call upon, but the mermaid extension of your power had little potential unless the fight was in the water. And then there was the issue of when your human legs would turn into an iridescent mermaid tail. When your skin comes in contact with enough water, your body automatically transforms, whether or not you want it. You always saw it as a pretty big weakness of yours-- that a villain could pour a bucket of water on you and in ten quick seconds you’d quite literally be a fish out of water. Luckily, your water manipulation proved useful in situations like that, but only if you were able to notice the water about to hit you before it made skin contact.

But all that considered, when Midoriya talked about your quirk, he made it sound like one of the greatest possible quirks someone could have. 

“Your body goes through a whole transformation that exponentially increases your speed in water and your water manipulation ability. Almost any villain would be at an automatic disadvantage if they were in the water with you. It’s an incredible quirk!”

You smile at the memory, cherishing those moments where Midoriya could make you feel like the strongest person on Earth while simultaneously making you weak in the knees. You adore his passion for hero work, his constant devotion to bettering himself never fails to inspire you. Plus, you can’t deny that you enjoy watching him fight. The way his messy, green hair tousles as he activates his quirk consistently lights a fire in you that you’ve never been able to extinguish. Sure, he could be a muttering mess of a nerd, but dammit if he didn’t have you completely wrapped around his finger.

Of course, he didn’t know that. You two went through high school together remaining nothing more than close friends. The second something would tease crossing that line, one of you guys would chicken out. And before you knew it, high school flashed by, leaving you with a heap of unconfessed feelings of infatuation. 

As you now stare at him from across the room and this graduation party, you can’t help but feel a twinge of regret. What if he has felt the same way about you, and you just wasted four years of your life pining for no reason? Then again, the fear of rejection weighed heavily on your shoulders, never really giving you the chance to break free and shoot your shot. 

Your thoughts are cut short by the sensation of cold water being splashed on your back. 

“MINETA!” you scream, whipping around to see the Fresh-Picked Hero running around, pouring water on other unsuspecting girls’ shirts. 

Your anger gets the best of you as you stand to stomp your way towards him, completely forgetting about the fact that your legs have begun fusing to form a tail. You begin to fall face-first into the floor, but right before you do, you feel a crackle of energy around you, the air fizzing as you feel yourself be caught by, who else, but Izuku Midoriya. 

“A-are you okay?” he says, balancing you in his arms. 

You try to catch your breath as you blush from all the eyes on you. 

“Damn, Midoriya,” Kaminari drunkenly slurs his words. “You ran across the room in less than a second to catch her. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you run that fast in the four years I’ve known you.”

There’s an awkward silence as you look up at your hero, his emerald eyes trying to keep focused on your eyes, blushing as he too notices the room staring at the pair of you.

“Uh, Midoriya,” you say before clearing your throat. “Can you carry me outside? Somewhere where I can wait to dry off?”

“Oh! Yeah, yeah of course.”

You tentatively wrap your arms around his neck as he begins to carry you through the house, trying to keep your heart from beating out your chest. You were so close to him. You attempt to take a few deep breaths to calm down, but every breath is immediately taken away by his presence.

“Thank you for catching me.” 

He smiles before setting you down in a reclining patio chair. “No problem. I’m sorry that Mineta did that to you.”

“Not your fault,” you shrug. “I’ve gone through all of high school with that little perv, I should know what to expect now.” 

Midoriya lets out a short laugh and takes a seat next to you, causing your heart to flutter. Was he going to sit with you while you waited to dry off and get human legs again? Could he get any more thoughtful and charming?

A few moments of silence pass. You let the gentle buzz of bugs, occasional croaks of frogs, and chlorine smell from the pool next to you fill the air. You look over and catch Midoriya staring, causing both of you to blush and look away. There’s a special kind of tension in the air, one that’s making your stomachs do flips as you ponder it. He could like me. He could like me, and now’s my chance to-

“So how long does it usually take for you to transform back?” he interrupts your thoughts. He must see the disappointment in your eyes because he immediately starts backtracking. “N-not that I’m in any rush! I’m fine sitting here with you! It’s just…” 

He sighs and his green eyes stare into yours. “-it’s just that you always look so sad when you’re in this form.”

His observation catches you off guard, but doesn’t surprise you. You’re never thrilled to have this quirk; whenever you transform you see it as a burden rather than some kind of gift. 

“I guess I kind of dislike this part of me, that’s all.”

Midoriya looks at you like a kid who was just told that Santa isn’t real: shocked, confused, and hurt. “But! But, it’s such an amazing quirk! The possibilities of all that you can do to save people and fight villains are endless. You must at least know that! And your water manipulation and combat skills mean that you’re just as effective out of water. And then you-”

“I know,” you say, cutting him off. “I know. It makes for a good hero quirk sometimes. But sometimes I just want to enjoy my class’ graduation party without turning into a half-monster with scales.”

“Monster?!” Midoriya practically yells, looking even more shocked and upset than before. “You think that your quirk makes you a monster?”

You gesture down to your tail, half hanging off the patio chair. Its iridescent scales reflect the moonlight, scattering hues of purple and yellow into the pool beside you. “What else would you call this?”

“Beautiful,” he says quickly, before blushing and beginning his usual stammering. “I-I mean beautiful in the way that I’m sure other people see you, not that I don’t think you’re beautiful, I mean, I do, but I just meant that you shouldn’t think that about yourself because I’m sure no one thinks of you other than beautiful, not that you’re not smart either, because you are, I just mean-”

As he mutters, you can’t help but feel a magnetic pull towards him. It’s too strong, too strong for you to try to resist anymore. You’ve fought it for four years. Four years of stealing glances during late-night study sessions. Four years of your hands occasionally “accidentally” touching his, causing electricity to flicker throughout your body. Four years of always hoping and dreaming that one day you’ll get to know the feeling of his arms wrapped around you. You can’t fight the pull anymore, even if you wanted to. So you give in. And you kiss him.

The kiss catches him off guard, effectively stopping his rambling. He tenses and gasps, but once he feels your hand reach up to his cheek, his eyes flutter close and he absolutely melts into your touch. Your lips move gently against his, guiding him at a slow, yet eager, pace. After a few fleeting moments, you’re forced to pull away for air.

You see your long-time crush, Izuku Midoriya, eyes big with adoration, cheeks flushed red, and your lipstick slightly staining his lips. In that moment, you can’t help but wish you had done this sooner. 

“I… I really like you, Izuku,” you whisper, unable to break eye contact as he hypnotizes you to move closer to him. “I have for a while.”

He smiles and attempts to blink back the tears in his eyes that threaten to spill over. “I really like you too.”

You don’t know this at the time, but Midoriya’s entire being is overflowing with elation. He has liked you far before you ever said your first words to him, choosing to admire you from afar. He never stopped having the mindset of the awkward, quirkless boy he once was, so he never considered that you could feel the same way. That you could reciprocate the way his heart practically bursted out his chest every time he laid eyes on you. Or the way he often found himself lost in a daydream where he magically had the nerve to go up to you and tell you how he really felt. Tell you that when he’s walking beside you, he can’t help but feel like he should be holding your hand; that when he’s talking to you, all he really should be doing is kissing you. 

So having you here beside him, quite literally sparkling under the moonlight and confessing that you like him just after kissing him… it’s almost too much to handle. He feels like his brain is short-circuiting.

“You wanna hop in the pool?” you suggest, effectively snapping him out of his daze.

“The pool?” he replies incredulously. 

“Yeah! Why not? It’ll be fun. Plus, now that I know you think I’m beautiful like this, maybe I want to stay like it,” you say with a wink. 

Midoriya feels his brain short circuit again. “I-I think you're beautiful without your quirk too!” 

You can’t help but giggle at his unwavering concern that he might say the wrong thing. You start to try and shimmy yourself off the patio chair to get to the pool, but Midoriya reacts quickly and leans over to help you lift you up. You admire his upper body strength (your mermaid tail was in no way a lightweight body part) and relish in the feeling of once again having his arms wrapped around you. He slowly lowers you into the pool water, blushing fervently once he notices the way your wet shirt clings to your body.

“Well? Aren’t you coming in too?” you ask, splashing at him. 

He chuckles and begins climbing in, not bothering to take off any of his clothes.Right as he enters the water, you take a breath and go underwater, feeling freer than ever before, completely in your element.

“Not fair!” he whines, watching you swim circles around him. “Not all of us have fins, you know.”

You giggle as you come up behind him, using your quirk to cause a small wave to crash over him. 

“Did you get me in here just to tease me?” he asks, trying to catch his breath from laughing.

You smile and swim up to him, getting as close as possible. “Maybe, but also to do this.”

Your lips crash into his, this kiss having much more confidence and purpose behind it than the one before. Midoriya lets out a soft moan as he kisses back, running his shaking hands through your wet locks. When you both stop to get air, he stares at you with wonderment.

There’s a special glint in his eyes that you can’t make out. Maybe it’s just the pool lights reflecting in his green irises. Or maybe there’s something else, shining bright within him like the stars above you, burning with passion and brilliance.

“What is it?” you ask, bewildered and hypnotized by his stare.

“It’s just,” he begins and looks up towards the sky, as if searching for the proper words, the ones that would have the right amount of letters, just the right sound to describe his current feelings. “It’s just… I’ve never seen someone as stunning as you. Both inside and out. And.. you absolutely amaze me.” 

It’s at that moment that you know with complete certainty-- you will keep in touch with Izuku Midoriya long after graduation.

[builder051]

some things never change

Chasing ghosts

Warnings for mentions of alcohol/drug use and SA

__________________

James wakes in the LaZBoy in the corner lf the living room, his head barely supported by the throw pillow jammed between the chair's arm and cushioned back. Light streams through the cheap blinds. James wonders what time it is. Then, vaguely, what day it its.

He rubs his eyes, which feel full of the haze of leftover burning smoke. His mouth tastes like smoke, too. Sort of like tobacco. A little like weed. He's evidentially been partying, even though that's not typically his thing. At least, not anymore.

James stretches and punches in the chair's footrest with his heels. It makes a popping sound, and that arouses a gran from the sofa across the rom.

"God, you're fucking loud," a small, hoarse voice complains.

"Tash?" James squints to distinguish her mop of red hair from the mound of quilts and afghans. There's a trash bin on ghe floor near what would appear to be Tasha's head. James assumes she's been partying too. Maybe she's the reason he's been partying in the first place.

"Hmph," the pile of blankets replies. James takes it as an affirmative.

"Ok." James pushes to his feet. Dizziness threatens to send him reeling for a moment, but he manages to shuffle into the kitchen and pour water into the coffeepot before his stomach bottoms out and he retches into the sink.

James's mouth and nose burn with bile, and he stifles a hacking cough.

"You ok?" Someone asks from behind James's shoulder.

James tries to keep his natural fight or flight response at bay whilst also stopping another dry retch before it finds its way into his throat. "Huh?" he says quickly. "I-- I'm--"

"Buck," Steve murmurs apologetically. "I'm sorry."

"It's ok," James chokes. He swallows hard and forces a smile.

Steve looks at him a little doubtfully. Then furrows his brows in an expression of real concern.

"What happened last night?" he asks in a low voice.

"I'm..." James swallows again, then turns back to the sink and spits. "Still trying to figure that out."

"You came home at two-thirty," Steve offers. "If that helps."

James shrugs. "My guess is that the supposed knight in shining armor wound up getting... pretty busted up."

"You're not all beat up, though," Steve says. "And you weren't that out of it. James is sure he's giving the mildest report humanly possible.

"I know I was high," James immediately admits, putting up his hands in honest innocence. "On what, I have practically no idea."

Regular cigarettes and pot can usually blur the edges for him a little, but it takes something heavier to drop him on his ass. Prescription grade, at least. Though he doesn't explicitly tell Steve that.

"Well," Steve says, glancing toward the living room to see Tasha's current grade of consciousness. "If you were high, she was fucking blitzed." Steve pauses. "And I don't know if it's, like, a thing, or something. I've never partied like that, but--"

"Just spit it out," James says with a sigh, taking the towel from the handle of the dishwasher to wipe his face.

"She didn't have any pants." Steve looks fairly mortified. "Like, you had her all covered with your jacket, like a dress, and all..." He trails off.

That partially explains why there are so many blankets on the sofa. Also why there are no sounds of the laundry machines tumbling all traces of last night out of Tasha's scant clothes.

"Meh." James shrugs. He puts the towel back. "Happens sometimes. Especially if there's something like... an unplanned interruption."

Steve takes a deep breath. "Wow." Then, "If you knew it was, well, that kind of party, why'd you let her go?"

"No question of letting her," James says, suddenly exhausted. "She's 18. She can make her own decisions."

"But, alcohol?" Steve ask. "Drugs? Guys?"

"She doesn't like guys," James says quickly, and with a snarky smile.

"But she was, obviously, well, you know--"

"Transactional," James says. "At least that's probably how it started." He looks into the living room to see if Tasha has stirred any more, which she hasn't. Drunken wakings are like that-- coming and going a bit before one knows what's really real. He hopes that's where Tasha is right now.

James glances at Steve, who still has the same curious look. "Do I really have to spell it out for you?"y

"No," Steve says, "But--?"

"Well, share your body and I'll share my drugs is one thing." It still brings a disgusted look to James's face. "But when you go in there to get her and she's naked and trying to break her own thumb to escape the handcuffs and the second guy's dropping his pants to take his turn..." James squeezes his eyes shut. He feels sick all over again, though he's already emptied the contents of his stomach.

"You want to take her in?" Steve suggests, his eyes wide. "Do a kit or something?"

"You can ask her when she gets up," James says doubtfully. "But if she's behaving anything like her regular self, she's gonna say she agreed to the first guy, and all he's guilty of is being rough. I'm pretty sure I punched the second guy out before he got on her.

"That's just..." Steve pauses..."Nuts. That you know this. That you aren't freaking out about this."

"Yeah, well, I learned pretty quickly that there better be specific relevant details when I first tried taking her to the ER after she turned 18. Hadn't moved out of the home yet, but was still trying to party like a college singleton."

"How'd you... take that?" Steve finally asks.

"Went with her when I could. Surveilled from a distance when she wouldn't let me. Only took her to the ER once after a rough one, and I found out real quick that statutory didn't apply anymore. Of course she agreed she'd consented, and I was the one who looked like a fool."

"What're you doing?" a miserable voice comes from the vicinity of the living room. "Are you talking about me?"

"Shit," James mutters. He wonders if she heard him talking about last night. He hopes not, lest she think he's broken some kind of unspoken sibling confidentiality rule of which they have yet to factor Steve into as something between boyfriend and brother-in-law. “Morning, Tash,” he says, giving Steve a glare that’s clearly meant to say their previous conversation is strictly under wraps.

“Hi.” Tasha slowly gets to her feet from her couch bed, still wearing the bottom blanket as a sort of toga dress over James’s backward hoodie. She stumbles a little, and James practically runs to keep her from falling, even though he’s not completely steady himself.

“Hey,” Tasha groans, grasping James’s arm as he pulls her into a hug. “I feel gross.” She pulls away, holding her hand an inch or so in front of her mouth.

“Yeah, I’m not all sunshine and daisies myself,” James admits.

“What were you rolling on?” Tasha asks skeptically. “Tylenol?”

“Tash, be serious, please.” James wants to roll his eyes, but he doesn’t want to exacerbate his current headache.

“Oxy?” Tasha tries again.

“Hey,” Steve snaps, suddenly up with the program.

“Don’t worry about it,” James tells him. “My privacy really isn’t the issue here.”

“So you were finally giving in to your cravings.” Tasha touches her tongue to her upper lip.

“So maybe I was.” James does his best not to let anger creep into his voice. He goes with cold, hard honesty instead. “I actually can’t remember what the fuck I took last night. Did. Drank.” James runs his hand through his hair.

“The sink says Guinness,” Steve supplies. “And your clothes say weed.”

James nods. It’s a fair enough assessment. He’s pretty sure pills were involved as well, lest it not be his type of party. The oxy makes sense. He probably rolled a little ecstasy with it, as he thinks he recalls lying on the couch in the house for some unknown period of time before reality set back in and he had to find Tasha.

Lying on the couch. That’s what Tasha ought to be doing right now. More drugs than what piped through James have probably hit her miniscule system. The fact that shey’s up, no matter how unsteady, seems to be a feat to be reckoned with.

“And what’re you on?” James asks, though he knows he’s unlikely to get an answer. At least an honest one.

“Same as you.” Tasha shrugs. “Maybe a little more. Maybe a little less.” She nudges the not exactly empty trash bin beside the couch with her foot. There isn’t much in it substance-wise, but the yellow bile at the bottom appears to be streaked with blood.

Broken capillaries at the back of the throat aren’t necessarily uncommon, James reminds himself, but the whole scene is a little unsettling. Sort of like the fact that she’s still wearing her temporary coat-and-blanket dress, making no move toward increased modesty. It’s as if the partying of the previous night has, for both of them, brought on exhaustion and an expulsion of cold, hard honesty. Something of the type James is more likely to spill; something mature that implies she’s out-aged the fun of the previous night.

It’s weird for Tasha, acting like the miniature grown-up that James knows she isn’t. But then he thinks back to the way he found her last night, and how he’s told her story to Steve without her express permission. Guilt fills James’s stomach, and he doesn’t feel beyond vomiting again. He just hopes Steve does have the sense not to let her know what he knows.

“Do you want to go to bed?” James asks Tasha, gesturing down the hall. “I don’t know what time it is, but it seems as good a time as any to crash.”

“Hm.” Tasha looks at him skeptically.

“I’ll get you some Tylenol. Gatorade, even.”

Tasha gives him a long, hard look that turns her skepticism into something else. James can nearly swear he sees tears at the corners of her eyes, but when he blinks, they’re gone.

“Can I bunk with you?” Tasha’s obvious attempt not to look teary gives her away, but now she seems congested as fuck, wiping her nose on the sleeve of James’s jacket.

“Yeah,” James replies, pulling two bottles of sports drink from the fridge, then putting his arm around Tasha. “Of course.”

“You do too much for me,” Tasha mutters into James’s shoulder. “I know you know it.”

James shrugs. He still feels a little on the toasted side himself, and, to be honest, his little sister’s warm comfort, no matter how binged or beaten, is a positive presence in his life. He wants her to be ok. It makes him ok. If one day she decides she’s not, they’ll handle it. Together. But for now, sleep is in order.

Tasha sandwiches herself between Steve and James in their not exactly spacious bed, stealing the covers and complaining of hot and cold in cycles as the drugs work their way out of her system. She clings to James, then to Steve for a while.

“She won’t freak out if she wakes up and I’m the one with her?” Steve asks conscientiously.

“No,” James replies with purpose. “You’re nice to her, and there’s nothing to be gained by banging you.” James smiles a bit to buffer the ragged truthfulness of the words, but Steve just sighs and nods.

“She’s never had an ‘older brother’s boyfriend,’ has she?” Steve asks.

James shakes his head

“I mean, like, some non-relative to take care of her.”

James raises his brows, but Steve quickly cuts in with a “you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, one that she’s not screwing or getting drugs from, or getting drugs for… There’s a reason so many of them in gangs, you know?” James says.

“You mean,” Steve starts. “She was—“

“Let’s pretend I didn’t bring that up.” James feels warm and sweaty, and Tasha’s unconscious body lies between them, lips subtly parted and hair draped wildly across the pillow.

“Ok,” Steve nods solemnly.

“Home life was tough. College seems like it’s maybe just as bad. Could be a little worse…” James shakes his head.

“And, well, you’re both better at picking at flaws on the other one,” Steve quietly points out

“Yeah,” James sighs. “That’s… probably the truest thing I’ve heard all night.”

“Hate to break it to you,” Steve says with a grin, “But it’s definitely morning. Maybe even noon by now.”

“Fucker…” James reaches over Tasha’s sleeping form to grasp Steve’s upper arm.

Steve shrugs. “Maybe. But I do suggest getting some sleep.” He nods down to Tasha’s curled, heavy-breathing frame.

“You’re kind of full of it, aren’t you?” James smiles. “Finding ways to take care of us?”

“Well, I have to somehow. And if it’s by throwing blankets on the couch and washing puke out of the sink, I’m here for it, I guess.”

“You’re—“

“Helpful?” Steve suggests, grinning. “Kind? Loving? Necessary?”

“Sure.” James reaches carefully over Tasha to give Steve a kiss on the cheek.

“Now,” Steve says, nuzzling James’s forehead as Tasha’s hair comes up to tickle his chin, “We get our well-deserved rest.”

[heirloommtomatoes]

you’re in a car with a beautiful boy

I’m at least 90% sure this ask was not sent with the intent of receiving a fic as a response but. Here we are. This got way longer and more convoluted than I had intended it to be and I’m jus gonna post it at this point bc i’m losing my mind re-reading it jsksk ! The title is from part 24 of Richard Siken’s poem “You Are Jeff”. Perfect poem for their first kiss, I think! Enjoy reading! :)

Warnings: Two instances of canon-typical homophobic language; canon-typical swearing.

Word Count: 2.6k~

The day Ian Gallagher shows up at his door, red-cheeked, out of breath, and wanting, no — “I need to see you” — needing him, Mickey knows he’s done for.

What comes out is: “I thought you were working today.”

Nice, dumbshit, that’s helpful, he registers the thought somewhere in the back of his mind, but mostly he just can’t stop staring at Ian. His eyes flick over his face, and he doesn’t have time to be shocked by how much he cares.

He’s embarrassed to reveal that yes, he did memorize Ian’s work schedule because he was in fact listening to the guy when he was busy running his mouth at the convenience store. Instinctively, he casts a quick glance over his shoulder. He can’t let Terry see this gay shit, Ian all worked up about some mommy issues and Mickey trying in his own way. To do what exactly, he’s still not completely sure. Comfort him, maybe? He doubts his father would clue in, his head’s too far up his homophobic ass for that, but like hell Mickey’s gonna risk it. Nothing’s gonna touch Ian. Fucking ever, if it’s up to him.

“I’ll meet you there in twenty,” Mickey says a short while later. He closes the door and goes back inside to stand around the dining table where Terry was going over some kind of raid or bust or heist while somehow managing to boss Mandy around every other word.

Mickey can’t focus on anything. He’s going to see Ian in twenty minutes. He’s bubbling with palpable excitement and fear and feelings he has no name for. What if Ian wants to talk about everything? Does he smell bad? What could Mickey say so he doesn’t leave? So Ian doesn’t see what a miserable shit he is? He hates Ian fucking Gallagher for making him care about dumb stuff like this, for making him incapable of hearing a word his Dad is saying to him and his brothers, for making him want to do some astronomically stupid thing like kiss him.

“Mickey, why you over there starin’ like some dumb fuckin’ fag?”

He doesn’t work up the courage for over another year.

Mickey slams the door to his room after running errands with Iggy all morning. It smells stale and one of the posters is curling off the wall in the mid-summer humidity. He’d changed his sheets this morning. The same red ones from the day Ian had burst in here like a maniac demanding the gun back. From then on, the two had been inseparable; no matter how hard their South Side circumstances had tried to pry them apart, every time they came back together like magnets.

Mickey knows he can’t really hide from Ian, and it scares him as much as it excites him. Ian reads him like no one ever has. The guy even had the nerve to smile that adorable smile that makes Mickey’s chest tight when he’d told him he’d rip his tongue out back in juvie. For some reason that Mickey cannot begin to fathom, Ian seems to want to spend time with him. Seems to believe in him.

He had thought himself perfectly fine to live a life half-awake, to spend his days either in prison or in the Milkovich household (one in the same, he thinks - except that juvie doesn’t have Terry), probably die by shivs or bullets or fists, and have his body buried in some unmarked grave all before his 50th birthday. Ian had wedged his place in the timeline of Mickey’s life. There was a before, and an after, and neither of them would ever be the same. Mickey pretends that its not this thought that keeps him up at night.

As soon as he realized that Iggy and Colin and Terry looked at girls and actually wanted them, that it wasn’t just some bizarre social act they all bought into, he knew he was fucked for life. His whole existence feels like some grand joke that everyone is in on but him, and when he lays down at night and stares at his ceiling and thinks about Ian Gallagher, Ian Gallagher, Ian Gallagher, he wonders if maybe he was the butt of it all along.

Ian Gallagher, who knew him and wanted him anyway, who took the time to care about him, who sought him out to spend time with him just because he wanted to. When had their ten minute fucks turned into smoke breaks? When had their smoke breaks turned into —

Mickey’s phone dings in his pocket as he sits on the steps of the Milkovich house, a cigarette dangling idly from his mouth.

Ian

what are ur plans today

He swallows his heart back down as it leaps into his throat, almost dizzying him with excitement. Get a grip, you fuckin’ girl. He’d done all that he needed to do for the day. He’d helped Iggy with some errands in the morning and had planned on laying low, playing Halo 3, and chain-smoking his way through a pack until dinner.

He chews on his lip as he considers what to say. He texts back:

Mickey

don’t have any

He wants to say “why, what’s up?”, he wants to say “let’s go to the dugouts”, he wants to say “let’s do something”, “let’s hang out”, “i want to see you”, “i want you”. But he’s not allowed to want things. Certainly not…this. Whatever this is. He receives a response almost immediately and can’t help but crack a fond smile. Someone’s eager.

Ian

come with me to that abandoned building near the L

you know the spot

That’s how Mickey finds himself sitting atop a wooden platform, watching Ian run military drills below at 1 in the afternoon on a Sunday.

He fires his gun into the sky while resolutely pretending not to be checking out the younger boy below.

“Hey,” Ian says, breathing heavily and squinting against the sun and Mickey finds himself realizing he is made of things he cannot ever have, “You know that guy you beat the shit out of at that club?”

Of course Mickey remembers. His stomach flops at the mention of him.

“He wants me to sneak into his mansion and take all of his crap.”

“Really,” Mickey responds dryly, firing off another shot. He doesn’t want Ian to keep talking about him, “Hi-larious.”

“Can’t get it himself,” Ian continues, as if Mickey cares. And the worst part is that he thinks maybe he does — he cares about everything this alien-looking ginger has to say and he hates it and he can never, ever get enough of it, of him, of Ian, “Divorce. Says I can take whatever I want. He’s loaded. You want in?”

Mickey fires shots at the ground by Ian’s head where he’s crawling under some boards. He’s remembering seeing them at that bar in Boystown, out in the heat and in the sun and in public, cracking jokes and living a life Mickey can only watch from behind glass, from behind bars. Fuck that old guy for getting handed on a silver platter what Mickey so desperately craves but cannot have. Not just Ian — freedom. Though Mickey thinks they’re one in the same these days.

“Jesus! Use blanks, maybe?! Fuck.” Ian shouts up at him, dragging himself up off the ground.

“Bring my cousins?” Mickey asks, refusing to look at him. Every time he does he sees them together and wishes that it had been him, sun-drunk and laughing and free by his side.

“Yeah,” Ian shrugs.

“‘Aight, I’m in,” Mickey fires off another shot. He’s angry at Ian for nothing other than exercising his complete right to see other people since they weren’t really together anyway, he’s angry at that old ass man for being able to go out for drinks with him, touch him, kiss him, and most of all he’s angry at himself.

He feels broken for wanting him. He feels broken for not being able to be brave enough to admit that he wants him. He gets cut on his own self-hatred any direction he turns.

“I dunno what you see in that geriatric viagroid,” he says, forcing himself to meet Ian’s gaze, if for a brief moment.

“He buys me stuff, orders me room service,” Ian says nonchalantly, looking up at Mickey. It’s obvious how much he’s been working out. His shoulders are hard and defined, his chest chiseled through the dark green of his military shirt. Mickey feels the familiar sting of contempt rising in his throat and fires off two more shots.

He can’t buy him anything, let alone room service. The fuck kind of response is that? More than anything, it annoys Mickey because he knows it isn’t really true. He’s bullshitting him, and that gets to him more than Ted or Ned or Fred or whatever the hell is name is ever could. He knows he’s not that superficial. Sure, he doesn’t doubt those are nice bonuses, but he knows there’s more to it than that.

He knows Ian. He knows Ian and he wishes that didn’t have to mean he loves him, but it does. He doesn’t understand how anyone could know Ian and not love him. But he’s not quite ready to admit that yet, least of all to himself.

“He isn’t afraid to kiss me,” Ian adds.

Ah. There it is.

His world has become a breathing thing with Ian in it. Before it was stagnant, stale, drowning. It has become a beast with teeth that threatens to tear him from the careful scaffolding he has built around the most fragile parts of his life.

If he kisses him, then everything he fears he is will be true.

Some dumb fuckin’ fag.

So Mickey brings his cousins later that evening and doesn’t stop thinking about Ian’s comment for the rest of the day. The van ride is full of loud music and rolled down windows that let in the warm, fresh summer air, and Iggy and Colin are endlessly bickering and hitting each other in the back of the car.

“Can you assholes quiet down when we get closer? You’re gonna wake up the old lady and everyone else in the goddamn neighbourhood before we even roll in the fuckin’ driveway,” Mickey says, swatting at them from where he’s sitting in the passenger seat. Ian glances his way with an amused smile that Mickey only just catches when he settles back. He grins in return around the cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“Oh hey, pass one?” Ian asks, holding out his hand. Mickey’s about to give him one before a car speeds around a corner and almost T-bones the side of the van. Ian’s hand snaps back to the wheel to swerve out of the way, and Mickey drops the cigarette to the floor of the van in all the commotion.

“Asshole, watch it!” Ian exclaims as he uselessly flips off the car that’s now long gone down the road. Mickey lets out a guffaw of a laugh and abandons handing him the lost cigarette in favour of placing his own half-smoked one right between Ian’s lips.

The intimacy of the action doesn’t strike him until he’s nudging the cigarette against his mouth and his eyes are tracing the outline of his lips and he can feel the warmth of his breath against his tattooed knuckles. The raw familiarity of the action and the fact that Mickey’s own lips had just been on the cigarette that’s now resting on the edge of Ian’s mouth has his heart racing so quickly he can feel it in his chest like a ton of bricks. Ian casts him a side-glance out of the corner of his eye as he parts his lips to accept it. Mickey takes his hand away and clears his throat, glancing at the rear-view mirror to an oblivious Colin and Iggy.

“Thanks,” Ian mumbles, remembering himself as he snaps out of whatever it had been that passed between them just now.

Mickey wants to kiss him. He really, really wants to kiss him. He’d tried fucking girls and had been less turned on than he was just now doing nothing other than placing his cigarette in Ian’s mouth.

Ian pulls into the drive minutes later, cigarette since burned through and discarded out the window. Mickey tries not to feel the absence of it as though it were his own lips against his and not just the ghost of them stained onto the cigarette.

Colin drags open the side door and hops out with Iggy, zipping open a duffel bag full of guns. Mickey’s grateful for the distraction, for the absolute focus violence requires that he hopes will shove his desire to do something as stupid as kiss Ian out of his head.

“Hey! Whoa, guys, guys! No fucking guns, alright? It’s just a drunk old lady in there,” Ian says, brow furrowed as he looks at Mickey.

Trust Gallagher to be the defender of drunk old ladies. Mickey bites at his lip, trying and failing to ignore the way his chest swells with adoration at Ian’s request. Soft motherfucker. He’s right, though — any unnecessary violence and this could be a way bigger deal than it needs to be. Plus, he’d rather not piss off his only and best friend. He grabs the guns back from his cousins, much to their disappointment, and makes off toward the house.

He hadn’t woken up this morning thinking that today would be the day he’d kiss Ian. Hell, even now he’s sure that if he thinks about it any more he’ll chicken out and never kiss him at all. Mickey Milkovich, with the F-U-C-K U-U-P knuckles, who wears dirt and a scowl like they’re permanent accessories, is going to kiss Ian Gallagher, the freckled boy who protects drunk old ladies and smiles at him like he hangs the damn stars. He figures he was about to storm into an old lady’s house brandishing firearms without second thought or fright. Is kissing someone really that much more terrifying?

Abso-fuckin-lutely.

But there’s nothing between them but the van and Mickey’s fear. And fuck the fear. Fuck it. 

He can pretend that he kisses him for no other reason than to prove a point, than to fulfill some implied dare. 

At the end of the day, he kisses him because he wants to. 

He kisses him because he likes him. 

He kisses him because he loves him.

Mickey’s heart is racing so badly he feels that he might throw up and well, what an impression that would leave. Every part of him is shaking as he turns and takes one step, two steps, pulls himself into the van and…

His lips are against Ian’s. They’re so much softer than he’d imagined (and he had imagined, often) and warm and Mickey can feel the breath from his nose against his own face. He tastes like smoke and freedom and something sweet Mickey can’t place -- a fucking Snickers bar? -- but loves the taste of anyway.

His brain short-circuits. He lingers longer than he had intended to, but it’s real and it’s better than he ever thought it could be. He’d kissed Sarah Perkins on a dare back in 7th grade and he’d gargled vodka afterwards to wash his mouth out.

He’d thought himself broken for it just not feeling right. But this…this feels right. Ian makes him feel right. He had expected, hoped even maybe, that it would feel wrong. That he would kiss him and feel as though he had done something terrible, something worse than stealing from an old lady’s home, but if it does he can’t bring himself to care at the moment.

On his tongue, in his touch, with his laugh, Ian has given him the vocabulary to understand himself. To put a name to feelings mostly only understood in the illuminating glory of hindsight.

He’s spent his whole life outside of himself. Is this what it is to know yourself? Is this what it is for everything to suddenly make sense? He isn’t allowed soft things. He isn’t allowed this.

But here he is anyway.

And the world spins on.

He wants to kiss him again and again and again but he remembers his cousins in the house and what he suspects was probably less than five seconds feels like an eternity and Ian’s lips are starting to respond and move and is that his hand starting to lift to touch him? oh shit what if they come back to get him and this is what they walk in on and --

He pulls back and retreats as quickly as he’d arrived, throwing up a middle finger at Ian. Afraid to kiss him, Mickey’s ass.

Fuck he thinks as he runs back to the house, and can’t think much else but fuckfuckfuck, every inch of him charged and shaking and electric.

“Forgot somethin’,” he says breathlessly to the two boys who are, as it turns out, barely paying him any mind as they bicker between themselves about how they’re going to manage picking up a cabinet heavier than the two of them combined. Mickey’s not listening to them as they end up dropping it to split up and tackle smaller bait.

He grins wickedly to himself. He did it. Mickey goddamn Milkovich made a choice that wasn’t about pain or hurt or violence. He’d made a choice that was his and his alone and it was soft. Mickey Milkovich could choose to be soft, and gentle, and maybe even caring.

And if he can kiss Ian Gallagher? He can do anything.

[eponinemylove]

aftg tattoo/flower shop au

@essence-29

so it’s wymack’s parlor and he still technically runs it and everything but he’s tired most of the time and he lets kevin pretty much take over

kevin has almost no tattoos himself except one he got that he deeply regrets (in my mind it’s bc riko was his piece of shit ex boyf and pretty much made him get it, but however u want to imagine the backstory of this tattoo is up to you)

anyway he runs the shop with his dad. matt, renee, and seth all work there

andrew runs the flower shop around the corner (managed by betsy). he could not give less of a damn about the parlor tbh. he barely noticed it existed

he’s more of a piercings guy anyway but it’s not like he’s against tattoos

at least, he didn’t care about the parlor until him and renee became friends

i imagine they met at the flower shop when she came in and ordered some for allison. maybe they started seeing each other around more and more, and you know how andrew makes friends. he probably followed her to work one day and they went from there.

either way they’re besties and they work on the same block. so andrew goes in and out of the tattoo parlor fairly often to pick up renee or have lunch.

him and kevin obviously run into each other at some point, probably more often than not

at first they ignored each other’s presence but then andrew started to notice kevin

tattoo artist without (many) tattoos? interesting. he won’t talk about the tattoo he does have? very interesting. he flinched when someone dropped a glass of something and it shattered? now you have his attention

and of course kevin can’t help but notice the hot, 5-foot-nothing guy who comes in at least once a week to harass his patrons and distract his employees

both of which are definitely crimes andrew commits regularly around the parlor

andrew invites kevin out for drinks one night after they’ve been noticing each other for a while. it’s not flirtatious or romantic, but it does feel... weighted. kevin goes. renee and the others are there too, vaguely, but he still manages to end up spending most of the night alone with andrew

they talk. a lot. it’s really slow going because neither one of them particularly feels like talking, but they do. or they come to a mutual understanding at least

they have a weird relationship after that that none of kevin’s friends or andrews relatives can even pretend to understand, but you know what? whatever. they’re KevinAndAndrew

i don’t want to say they’re attached at the hip, but they totally are. anywhere kevin is, andrew follows, especially if kevin is drinking. and they’re not even nice to each other. that’s the confusing part for the others. just looking at them, you wouldn’t even think they were friends, much less maybe-kind of-dating?

so this goes on for a couple of months, and just when everyone thinks they’re getting used to it, neil comes in

literally no one was ready for him. he shows up at the tattoo parlor one day and just applies for a job. no resume, no interview. straight up walks up to the front desk and asks for a job

kevin wants to throw him on his ass but matt says the least they could do was interview the guy

(neil probably looks all kinds of a mess. not like insane or dirty, but just generally disheveled and exhausted and... neil. he looks like neil)

kevin still thinks this is a waste of time, but he lets neil show him what he’s got

no one was expecting neil, but they definitely weren’t expecting him to be so goddamn good

it’s hard to tell if he’s a natural or has actually had years of hardwork and practice, but he’s an amazing artist and he knows his way around a needle

so they hire him.

matt becomes quick friends with neil. seth and neil don’t get along, per se, but they’re almost the exact same brand of asshole so there is a sort of solidarity between them

renee obviously is nothing if not entirely pleasant to neil, but he still has issues trusting her

and kevin? well kevin kind of hates his newest hire

he complains to andrew about him nonstop. about how he’s stupidly talented and a complete bastard and gets along with people but in a chaotic sort of way that makes kevin anxious and annoyed and

kevin has a lot to say and andrew is more than inclined to listen

it’s a surprise to no one when andrew is in the parlor the next day, scoping out neil for himself

oh, and i should mention that neil has literally NO tattoos. not even one. (his mother would never allow something so easily recognizable)

neil barely notices andrew until he confronts him after his shift. i don’t know what he would say, but it would go pretty much like how their meeting went in the books, just probably without the racquet

a fight immediately breaks out that matt and kevin have to break up. renee knows better

yeah neil and andrew don’t get along

andrew is very interested though. so he does what andrew always does. he gets nosy. and personal. and mean

it takes him a surprisingly long time to find any information on neil. he thinks it might be a fake name and kevin assures him that it’s definitely likely, which helps exactly none.

eventually the only thing he manages to gather is that neil has one hell of a temper and could start a fight in an empty room. he also won’t take any shit from anyone, whether it’s from andrew or some random Karen screaming at one of his coworkers for giving her daughter a tattoo she didn’t approve of. he can and will tear someone to shreds, and as much as kevin hates it (“Neil that’s bad for business, you can’t verbally abuse the clients”), andrew is very amused

kevin secretly also really likes neil. it’s hard not to—he says everything kevin wouldn’t dream of and sees through all of kevin’s bullshit. also he’s ridiculously hot and incredibly good at his job, and there’s nothing kevin appreciates more than talent and competence

after, idk, a month? of getting nowhere to unraveling neil’s past, andrew invites him for drinks.

kevin is there of course and pre-approved the decision. matt comes along bc he doesn’t trust andrew in the slightest and he loves neil. renee is there to make sure no one actually gets murdered. seth just shows up bc he thinks something funny might happen, like another fight

not strictly relevant, but allison, dan, and nicky working at the bar/club they frequent??? a Concept.

andrew and kevin are both pretty surprised to find out that neil doesn’t drink. they try and “convince” him otherwise, but neil refuses and short of drugging him, there’s not really anything they can do

nothing really happens the first couple of hours. nicky flirts with neil a couple of times, neil doesn’t notice, the usual. things take a turn when neil spots kevin’s tattoo. other than that, the night was a bust

since this is an au, idgaf what’s in their past. reader interpretation, use ur imagination, go crazy. however, whatever kevin was involved with, neil was somehow tangled up in too. that part stays the same

he doesn’t mention it

he doesn’t mention it

he doesn’t mention it

and then, of course, he mentions it

it’s not on purpose or in anyway eloquent. they probably get into some sort of fight while closing up and it just slips out

there’s a moment of “oh shit”, the complete understanding that passes through the two of them

they don’t mention it

except they do, because andrew finds out

he and neil have a another “talk” bc yeah andrew might run the flower shop, but if neil brings trouble from kevin’s past back to him now, when he’s doing so much better, andrew can and will actually commit homicide

and that’s the start of their relationship!

well, no, not really. neil still takes a while to warm up to them, and a while longer to start feeling any sort of romantic attraction to them. and of course that’s after he realizes they’re even a couple, because trust me, with those two is always questionable whether or not they’re even friends. or acquaintances. or on speaking terms

also they have to eventually talk about everything. set boundaries, clear the air. neil gives them piece by piece looks into his past. it’s slow work, but it’s a little bit of trust given by someone who has never trusted anyone before.

yeah so anyways everyone thought KevinAndAndrew was confusing? well they don’t know what the fuck is going on with KevinAndAndrewAndNeil

what they do know is that kevin and neil do some of the best tattoos in the country. what they do know is that andrew and neil take smoke breaks together in the back alley, halfway between their two shops. what they do know is that andrew and kevin have adopted neil into their relationship and the three of them are so close-knit, it almost becomes impossible to find one away from the others at any given moment

what they do know is that at least twice a week, the short, blond, very scary flower-shop guy walks into a tattoo parlor and a 6-foot tall intimidating tattoo artist and 5’3 ginger with a sharp tongue and sharper attitude immediately stop what they’re doing and go meet him

that’s pretty much it. scary blonde who sells roses for a living falls for scary tattoo artist who doesn’t seem to believe in tattoos. both these idiots then fall for the (not at first glance) scary new guy who is obviously trouble, because this is a tatto/flower shop au, and everyone loves the broken badass with a heart of gold.

there’s something to be said here about the most intimidating and kick-ass power couple (throuple?) ever

also it’s funny bc based on appearances alone, everyone expects neil to run the flower shop, and kevin and andrew to do tattoos. boy are they in for a surprise though, because andrew knows every single flower you could ever think of sticking in a bouquet, and neil could operate a tattoo gun blindfolded

ALSO they all get matching tattoos at some point bc they’re idiots and in love and it probably has a whole crap ton of heartfelt meaning that i don’t want to explain bc i feel like i’ve rambled forever at this point and still said nothing significant

oh and neil 100% gives kevin a coverup, replacing his old tattoo with something else.

there’s all kinds of plants decorating the parlor courtesy of andrews shop, and neil and kevin design andrew’s logo

and betsy makes everyone flower crowns at some point. andrew refuses to acknowledge it i’m any way, but dutifully wears it regardless. neil wears it to work the entire day, and after hangs it in his office-thing. whatever tattoo parlors have. kevin straight up refuses to wear it but neil wears him down and he puts it on for like 20 minutes. there’s even pictures to prove it

[lady-literature]

what a lion cannot manage chp 4

there are legitimately three separate subplots i try to resolve/give attention to in this chapter and it took so long to write because i had to make it not insanely ridiculous. happy holidays!

chp 1 | chp 2 | chp 3 | chp 4

Yagi’s surprise ends up being that he’s finally coming back to visit.

Izumi is as excited about it as she is terrified.

***

Mom, by virtue of being the best person in the whole world, knows exactly when Izumi is spiraling too far into her own head and needs a little help getting herself out. It doesn’t matter how much Izumi tries to hide or downplay it, Mom just knows.

So when Mom invites her to spend all of Saturday morning baking brownies and spending quality time together, Izumi knows the game she’s playing. Mom doesn’t pressure her into speaking—she never does—but about twenty minutes into the endeavor Izumi puts down the mixing bowl and sighs.

Like ripping off a bandage, she tries to tell herself.

“How do you tell someone you know about a secret they probably didn’t want you knowing?” she says in a quick rush, leaving her mom blinking trying to decipher the words. 

She waits a beat, and when Mom doesn’t say anything, she steamrolls onwards, falling back on her default setting: rambling.

“Like, if you found out about it by accident and didn’t mean to know but now you do. There’s no taking it back and you don’t want to lie about knowing so you should tell them, right? But the secret is… personal and sensitive, probably, so you should tell them gently. But how do you do that? Is there a way to ease someone into that kind of thing? Does this-”

Her mom settles a gentle hand on her arm, lips pulled up at the corners but her eyes filled with understanding. “In my experience,” she starts, “all it takes is sitting the person down and telling them that you know.”

“But what if they get mad?” Izumi worries. “Or upset? Then what?”

Mom hums. “They might. It depends on the person.”

Izumi’s ears are already starting to flatten against her skull, dread pooling in her stomach when her mom taps her arm again to regain her attention.

“But,” Mom continues knowingly, “If you explain what happened and how it was an accident, they’ll understand. If they’re a reasonable sort of person, I have no doubt they’ll forgive you.”

Izumi worries at her lip, staring down at the brownie batter like it holds all the answers.

Yagi is someone she’d call reasonable. He always makes time to listen to her, and he’s All Might. Being kind and nice and reassuring is his whole thing.

So, is it… could it really be that easy?

***

It’s a good thing Kacchan’s in the know now.

There are plenty of reasons this is true—not in the least because she doesn't have to lie to him anymore—but currently? She thinks it’s pretty good because it’d be really hard to explain the whole snarling monster with sharp teeth trying to kill them if he didn’t.

“Move!” she shouts, hands slamming into his back to get him going.

The thing with too many teeth and claws takes a swipe at them and Izumi doesn’t even think about it before she’s moving to take the hit meant for Kacchan. He’s going to be pissed about her protecting him but the thing catches her in the ribs, tearing her skin to ribbons and Izumi knows that’s the kind of wound that would kill a human so if Kacchan wants to take issue with it, that’s too damn bad.

She screams, and she thinks Kacchan might be screaming too.

She doesn’t fall—because this isn’t the first hit she’s taken from a creature, even if it might be the worst—so she’s able to claw at the things face enough to get it to back off.

It only gets as far as a backwards step before Kacchan is there, snarling and hands pressed up against the thing’s throat. And then the world erupts into light and heat and the creature is no more.

“Izu!” he’s at her side in the next moment, face doing strange things as he stares at the claw marks in her side. “What the hell was that? What were you thinking?”

She presses a hand to her wound and hisses. Kacchan’s eyebrows do something complicated and distinctly unhappy.

“I was thinking I didn’t want you to die,” she says breathlessly. “I’d heal. You wouldn’t.”

He scowls at her and his hands curl into half fists. If he hadn’t just used everything in him to reduce the creature to tiny bits, she’s sure the air would be filled with the familiar crackle-pop of his explosions.

“I don’t want you protecting me,” he snaps.

“Too fucking bad,” she snaps right back, startling him. “You’re skulk, and more than that, you’re my best friend. If you think I’m going to stand back and watch you get hurt you obviously haven’t been paying enough attention.”

He snarls soundlessly at her, so fox-like without even realizing.

Kacchan doesn’t say anything else to her, but she’s not naive enough to think that’s the end of it. He’s prideful and arrogant and one conversation won’t suddenly change that. They’ll fight about this again, but Izumi won’t bend for this either.

Kacchan will just have to learn to live with it.

***

It’s not until later, when the pain has subsided and the anger cooled, does Izumi realize that she called Kacchan skulk. She's known of course, but it's the first time she's said it aloud.

She wonders if Kacchan caught it.

She wonders if he understands what it means.

***

Kacchan gives her the silent treatment for a whole three days after she gets nearly disemboweled to save him.

Well; his version of the silent treatment, which isn’t very silent and mostly involves a lot of yelling and threatening to blow her up.

But, when he does actually aim an explosion at her face and she refuses to move, the only thing that hits her is smoke and noise. So, you know.

She figures he’s mad but not actually out to murder her which is nice. He did half-drag, half-carry her home while her side stitched itself back together after all so maybe that’s not as much of a surprise as she thinks it is.

***

The moment she sees Yagi, he’s already reaching down and sweeping her up into his arms, twirling them around with that great strength of his. Her arms are wound around his neck and she’s laughing and crying at the same time, so happy she can’t keep it all in her chest.

Yagi doesn't put her down for a whole five minutes, even when her mom and aunts keep making pointedly amused comments. Not that Izumi is complaining.

She’s missed him so much that her chest had ached with it. But now Yagi is here, right next to her, and Izumi has all of the people she loves right where she can get to them.

It feels like someone’s finally put the world back on right.

***

She runs away to Yagi’s for three whole days with her mother’s permission.

She and Yagi make a mess of his kitchen and talk for hours about the time they were apart as if they hadn’t spoken nearly every day about it all.

Izumi regales him with the schoolyard drama she’s stopped recently, before excitedly asking after the support heroes at Might Tower. Yagi always describes his coworkers vaguely, but if Izumi thinks about it, she can figure out which hero he’s talking about. The personal anecdotes Yagi tells her are always her favorite Hero stories. He makes titans seem like normal people, the same way knowing Yagi has made Izumi see All Might.

At night, Yagi forces her to watch old, American movies with him. He says they’re all ‘classics’ but she can’t help but find them all ridiculous.

She watches them though. Because Yagi likes them and it’s a full, uninterrupted two hours she gets to burrow into his side for. Sometimes even longer if he falls asleep before the movie ends.

In the mornings, Yagi makes her American breakfasts while she sits on the counter and analyzes the Hero fights on the morning news. She breaks down quirks as he pours the pancake batter and is coming up with viable support items or techniques by the time he takes them off the griddle.

He smiles indulgently at her the whole time, even when she can tell he didn’t understand a word she just said.

“Remind me someday to introduce you to Melissa,” he says during a break where she paused for breath. “You two would get along like a house on fire.”

On the fourth morning, Izumi is still sitting on the counter while Yagi makes breakfast, but she’s barely said a word. She’s making Yagi nervous, she knows. And, truthfully, she’s right there with him.

The words have been pressing against the back of her teeth for days. 

“I know you’re All Might,” she blurts without warning or preamble.

Yagi startles, turning to blink at her, once, twice, three times.

She bites her lip, ears pressed flat as she waits for his reaction. It’s… a bit anticlimactic actually.

“Well,” he says, lips curling up into a bright smile as his hand reaches out to ruffle her hair. “Can’t say I didn’t expect that. Knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

Izumi stares at him.

“You knew?”

Yagi shrugs, just a bit amused as he returns to the pancakes. “No. Not really. But you’re too clever for me to think I could keep it from you for long. Though I had hoped it’d be a while yet.”

Absently, Izumi wonders if it’s wise to tell him she figured it out months ago.

***

With that not-quite-secret out in the open between them now, something about them seems to settle more solidly into place. There are only five other people in the world who know that Yagi Toshinori and All Might are one in the same, and something about that makes Izumi both warm at her center and unbearably sad.

(Sometimes, she thinks, it seems like Yagi has no one else in the world but her. The thought makes her furious.)

Izumi spends the rest of the week and a half playing a delicate balancing act between Yagi, Kacchan, her family, school, and all her extracurriculars. She only manages it at all because the important things overlap nicely enough that she can multitask.

Like the fact that Kacchan spends most days at her house now, and that Yagi likes to walk with her around town as she runs errands, and that her Aunties Emi and Isami seem to have a bet about which of them can make Yagi blush harder (without making him choke on blood of course; that’s an automatic fail).

She doesn’t think she stops smiling once the whole time.

***

She spends almost the entire morning before Yagi’s supposed to leave clinging to him like a stubborn burr, lecturing him on taking care of himself like he’s supposed to and being safe—or as safe as he can be in his line of work.

Yagi bears her fussing with the grace of someone who’s gone too long without it, but promises to do his best at following her new rules.

When the car meant to take him away arrives, he hugs her just shy of too tight for a human child but Izumi doesn’t complain. He presses a reverent kiss to her forehead and buries his face in her wild riot of curls.

“I’m going to miss you,” she tells him through the tears she tried so hard to keep back.

“And I you, my dear girl.”

“Stay safe,” she asks-demands-pleads. “Just- take care of yourself and stay safe, alright?”

He squeezes her tighter for a fraction of a second.

“I’ll do my best,” he says and it’s not a Promise. It can’t be, because what she’s asking isn’t something he can give. Not really anyway. 

He kisses her forehead again before setting her down.

Watching him leave is just as hard the second time, as it was the first.

***

She curls in her bed that night, Kacchan sprawled out close enough to touch while she drowns in a shirt she’d stolen from Yagi.

Her room smells like all the people she loves even if they aren’t all there.

It’s comforting.

It also makes her chest ache.

***

She does a lot of thinking over the next week, in between her bouts of sadness and calls with Yagi.

At the end, she’s come to a decision. 

The next day, she spends two hours having to convince Nona to go along with it.

***

Izumi’s gotten pretty good at scaling the wall up to Kacchan’s window, if she says so herself.

She knocks lightly and waits patiently for Kacchan’s grumpy frown to appear in front of the window. 

“What are you doing here?” he snaps groggily. “You weirdos don’t make kadomatsu at midnight right? Because if you do, I don't want to be invited anymore.”

Izumi snorts and grins. “Nope! Kadomatsu making is tomorrow-”

“It is tomorrow,” he grumbles crankily which Izumi charitably ignores.

“-but get dressed anyway! Something you’d wear into the woods. I promise it’s worth losing your precious beauty sleep over.”

“Fuckin’ better be.” He swats at her, slow but with force, and she almost loses her grip on the window ledge. But Kacchan already turned around to rifle through his drawers and, thankfully, doesn’t see her undignified scramble for purchase.

***

When Izumi was young, her mother explained that there is more to being Shaalim Nephashot than just mischief and magic. 

Nothing is without price, her mother had warned. To be something so powerful, there are responsibilities one must bear.

(Some of which, Izumi thinks with not a small amount of excitement as she drags Kacchan further into the woods, are better than others.)

***

By the time she and Kacchan break through the trees into the clearing all her family has gathered in, it’s already started.

The clearing is wide, about the size of a tennis court, and there is very little room not being used. Her family takes up most of it, dancing and singing and laughing beneath the shadow of the willow trees. On the far side, there is a long table, set with offerings and plates laden heavy with food and drink. Closer to her, are chairs filled with the skulk elders who aren’t quite spry enough for dancing, but happy to play music and lead the singing for songs.

And then, most noticeable, are the restless spirits her family has summoned, little more than formless lights floating happily about their heads. They are kaleidoscopes on the wind, mesmerizing and enchanting and the reason Izumi holds the night of the new moon so close to her chest.

She turns to Kacchan, looking for his reaction, and finds him stunned.

There’s something in the way his eyes can seem to settle on any one place, the way they focus and unfocus, that lets her know what he sees is not necessarily what she does. She’s curious what his Sight reveals, but that’s a question for later, she thinks.

“What… what is this?” Kacchan asks her, sounding distinctly breathless.

“Rikud mavet,” she says, and watches as his whole body seems to jolt, gaze swinging towards her abruptly.

So he does know the meaning then.

Good. Izumi was worried she’d have to explain it. Which she could do, but it’s easier if he already knows.

Probably learned about it in his reliquary books—or as much as he could learn, she supposes. Those books were written by humans, and it's hard to get anything concrete from them when no human had ever been present for a rikud mavet.

Before now, that is.

She watches, unable to hide her delighted smile, as Kacchan uselessly opens and closes his mouth, eyes darting from hers to whatever it is he can see in the clearing that she can’t. Eventually he shuts it, jaw clenched so hard she worries for his teeth.

The nervousness is there again; that same uncertainty he had when, two months ago, he told her that he knew.

“You’re skulk,” she says and turns it into a declaration with the force behind it. She’s told him once, and she meant it, but now she needs him to understand. “Rikud mavet is always open to you.”

He’s silent for a long moment, his hands flexing at his sides as he struggles to take all of this in.

She waits.

Then he nods, clears his throat, and goes to nod again before stopping and scowling at himself. She keeps standing there, smiling at him with as much affection she can manage—which is a lot. So she isn’t all that surprised when Kacchan shoves her face away and yells something about her being “so fucking embarrassing.”

She laughs instead of any normal reaction she could have had, and grabs his wrist before he can stuff his hand back in his pocket.

“Come on,” she urges, already pulling him along, “It’s not rikud mavet if you don’t dance.”

“I don’t dance,” he snaps. It’s not all that believable when he says it and it’s less so when five minutes later, he’s leading her through the ‘ridiculous, show pony dances’ he says he hates but knows all the steps to.

They don’t stop dancing until the sun rises over the willow.

***

Kacchan comes to every rikud mavet after that and it makes something warm settle happily in the center of Izumi’s chest every time.

He doesn’t always want to dance—because he really doesn’t like dancing all that much even though he can—and on those nights he plays the drums instead, a vibrant spotlight in the middle of the skulk elders who coo and tut at him in equal measure.

Izumi is glad that Kacchan is there—more than glad, actually. But every time she sees him sitting at the drums, all she can imagine is Yagi sitting there too, clapping his hands to the rhythm because he’s a terrible singer and dancer and can’t play an instrument.

Yagi would be happy, she knows, nestled in the middle of people who cared about him. He’d laugh, because rikud mavet is about joy and moving forward. He’d smile because it’s about sending restless spirits on their way, even the ones in your chest (and Izumi knows he has more than a few of his own).

She brings Kacchan to rikud mavet because she wants him there—because he belongs there—but also because she knows that Yagi can’t be.

Izumi knows Yagi’s secret, but he doesn't know hers.

And that makes her ache nearly as much as him leaving did.

***

Time skips ahead.

As the months pass, she and Kacchan keep stumbling upon things lurking in the woods.

It’s nothing as bad as that first time and is closer to what Izumi refers to as ‘normal’. She’s been running into random monsters in their woods since she was nine, and she’s been getting rid of them for just about as long.

The only difference is she has back up now. Not that Kacchan would appreciate being called that.

Aoi and Mom always fuss over them when they come back scuffed or winded, which she bears with far more grace than Kacchan does. It’s not abnormal to see him and Aoi get into screaming matches while she patches him up.

She continues taking gymnastics and aikido, and Kacchan has been allowed back on the wrestling team. They’re both top of their class, Izumi placing first for subjects like foreign language, literature, and history, while Kachhan dominates the sciences and math.

Kacchan turns thirteen and Izumi throws him two parties. The usual one, with the shiny new addition of Yagi who came specifically for the party, and then another one that was skulk members only.

Izumi spends weekends running around town, picking up odd jobs and volunteering wherever she’s needed, only stopping when Kacchan, Aoi, or Mom forces her to.

The kids at school keep expecting her to mediate fights, and she keeps doing so. Hero Analysis for the Future #13 is finally filled fit to bursting, and she nestles it on her shelf along with the others as she starts a new one.

And then Izumi turns thirteen and her family begins acting… weird.

The day of is happy enough, with all the people she loves gathered close and celebrating. But the moment ends and suddenly everyone’s acting like she’s made of glass, tiptoeing around her and whispering low enough that she can’t hear.

They’re acting like something bad is going to happen but no one will tell her what.

And then, just around the time where she begins getting truly upset about everyone keeping things from her, Nona calls for her and says it’s time they talked.

 ***

“Matriarch.” She bows to her great-great-great-great grandmother and stands before her large desk. Her mom and Aoi are there, standing just to either side of Nona, but the looks on their faces are anything but comforting.  “You wanted to speak to me?”

Nona’s lips are pressed into a thin line, and her eyes lack all the warmth and affection Izumi normally sees in them. Its absence makes the hairs on the back of her neck rise and her stomach churn.

“I think,” Nona says, calm and without much inflection, “It’s time you knew our history. Our full history.”

Her eyebrows furrow, and she looks at Aoi and Mom, but neither will meet her eyes. “You mean about… the curse?” she asks, hesitant and scared. No one’s ever spoken to her about it. Izumi always suspected Nona ordered them not to.

“Yes,” her Nona says and then she talks and talks and talks-

***

Most hunters, Izumi knows, are perfectly fine people who only ever go after things that come after them first. Many never would’ve looked twice at the Midoriya Skulk—at any skulk, really. They are beings that were too powerful and too much trouble for no reason.

Shaalim Nephashot didn’t kill humans. In fact, most of the time they were doing the Hunters’ jobs for them by getting rid of the things that wandered onto their land.

Most Hunters, of course, didn’t mean all Hunters.

There was always something a bit off about the Takanashis, something even other Hunters picked up on. A proud lineage, an arrogant one, that thought themselves so mighty that they could do no wrong.

(It led to their downfall. But not before they dragged Izumi’s skulk halfway down with them.)

No one knows why the Takanashis snapped, no concrete reason anyway. There are rumours, of course. But they’re ridiculous fairy tales no one had ever put stock into.

(Izumi watches though, the way her mother shifts and Aoi scowls, and knows there are things being left unsaid.)

But, whatever the reason, the Takanashis attacked them. Not with silver or steel or brute force, as they were known, but with the one thing the Midoriyas never expected because it had seemed so laughable.

The Takanashis attacked them with magic.

And the horrible thing is that they almost won.

“That first wave took the most powerful of us,” her Nona explains. “Among them was my great aunt, the previous Matriarch. There were only a few Takanashis that survived our retaliation, but by then the damage was done.”

So the Midoriyas hid. They pretended they were killed off, that they took the Takanashis down with them in their final throes of death because the curse was strong then. Was a boulder above all their heads, waiting to crash down on them all.

(And most Hunters aren’t all Hunters. The Takanashis weren’t the only rogues, only the loudest and most unapologetic.

If word got out that the Midoriyas were weak rather than dead— that there was a prize to be gained from seeking them out- well. It doesn’t do to dwell on such things.)

“What the curse couldn’t kill quickly, it kills slowly. Few foxes are being born, fewer children in general. Our magic became harder to call as time went on. Human magic comes easier, but not by much.”

Izumi furrows her eyebrows. She knows this. It’s nice to have it confirmed, cause no one had ever told her this was how it all worked, but she’s smart and clever and pays attention. She already knew all of this.

She waits, sure that her Nona will continue.

Izumi will wish she hadn’t though.

“The curse is meant to kill us,” she starts again, slowly. “But it can’t do that if we run away.”

Izumi has only a second to be confused, a broken thought of ‘then why had we stayed for so long?’, before it all clicks in horrific clarity.

“No,” she says, begs, pleads. “No.”

But Nona keeps speaking and Izumi wants nothing more than to cover her ears and pretend she can’t hear. To pretend that none of this is happening and her dreams aren’t being viciously ripped from her own hands as she watches.

“We can’t leave the forest. You can’t leave the forest.”

And Izumi crumbles.

***

She doesn’t wait to be dismissed. Mom and Aoi are both stepping out from the desk, arms outstretched, but Izumi’s already running.

She bolts passed the living room and straight into the forest—the forest that was meant to be their prison, their graves-

Some of her family try to stop her, try to run after her, but Izumi has always been faster, always been different.

Maybe in this, she is different too.

She’s the first fox born in decades, is the first to call magic with the ease of breathing in just as long. Maybe the curse doesn’t- Maybe it isn’t-

Izumi runs and runs and runs and-

And she slams painfully into solid air. 

Her nose breaks and blood streams down her chin along with her tears. She gets back up and does it again. And again. And again. And again. Until her nose has healed itself. Until her arms are sore and bruised enough that even her healing is struggling to repair the damage.

She collapses against the barrier, sobbing and screaming and clawing at it because this isn’t right. She’s meant for more than this! The Universe told her—promised her. She’s meant to rule the world and protect everyone and she’s trapped here!

She was made to be mighty.

Let her go!

***

Aoi finds her hours later with Nana Naoki behind her. Aoi probably asked them to help sniff her out.

Izumi’s quiet, curled up and small as she leans against the barrier. Her voice has long since gone hoarse from all her screaming and tear tracks have dried on her cheeks and there are smears of her own blood still on her chin.

Aoi takes one look at her before scooping Izumi into her arms and holding on as tight as she can.

None of them say a word.

***

Later, when Izumi finds that her voice is working again, she will ask question after question. Most of them boil down to the same two things.

Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why am I so different?

They will not have answers for her and she’ll be reminded of when she was small and asked too many questions about the wrong things and found herself with too many non-answers.

Izumi will eventually stop asking them.

***

At school on Monday, Izumi hardly speaks to anyone.

She’s spacey on the best of days, but this is just stupid. Every time he looks at her she’s staring off into space, her eyes sad and mouth pulled down at the corners.

Everyone asks her if she’s okay, because she has the whole school eating out of her hand, but all she says is that she’s fine, no need to worry! Just a little tired, that’s all! and smiles wide enough to trick those extras into leaving her alone.

Only Katsuki is determined enough to see through her bullshit, but all she does is stay infuriatingly closed-lipped about it. So he drops it for the time being.

But then she does the same thing on Tuesday.

And Wednesday.

And Thursday.

When she comes in on Friday acting no different, Katsuki can feel the whole school starting to glare at him like it’s his damn fault.

And sure, last time she was maudlin and sad, he may have been going through that whole ‘learning about the supernatural’ thing and accidentally on purpose started avoiding her, but this time he hasn’t even done anything.

So he’s pissed off. He is done, okay? Katsuki gave her time to mope and shit about whatever it is that’s bothering her in the hopes that she’ll get it out of her system, but obviously that's not working. So now they’re going to do this his way.

The lunch bell rings and Katsuki is at her desk, glowering down at her and giving her one last chance to say something because he’s a pretty understanding guy. He’s never been much good at patience but Izumi does this shit for him so he at least tries for her.

But she just shrugs, and gives him one of those fake ass smiles she’s been given all the extras—the one that he hates and-

That’s the last straw.

In the next moment, Izumi is thrown over his shoulder.

She shrieks. “What are you-! Kacchan! Put me down right now!”

“No,” he says flatly, throwing both their bags out the open window and following after them a second later.

***

Izumi yells and squirms and slams her hands into his back the whole time, demanding he take her back to school and let her go. He does none of those things.

He’s pretty sure she could get out of his hold. Not easily, perhaps, but she could and she is not actually trying to.

So Katsuki figures she’s full of shit and doesn’t put her down until they get to the beach, the shitty corner of it where no one goes because it’s more trash heap than anything else.

He dumps her on the sand.

“Kacchan!” she starts, “What are you-”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he demands before she can start scolding him.

“Wha- me?” she reels back, “You’re the one who kidnapped me off campus! We’re going to miss-”

She tries to move past him and he throws out his arm to stop her. “Shut up about class. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing’s ‘going on’, Kacchan.”

“Bullshit.”

The look she gives him is something he knows she picked up from him. The aggression playing on her face is too close to his own to be anything else.

If she were using it on anyone else, it might’ve even worked. But, sucks for her, he invented that look.

“I don’t need your dorky ass, super-ears to know when you’re lying to me,” he says firmly, crossing his arms and trying to glare him into submission. “So stop doing it and just spit it out.”

Her mouth opens only to close a second later. Her hands are in fists at her sides and if she were anyone else, Katsuki would think she was about to punch him. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Tough shit. You’ve been not talking about it all week and now it’s time to spill your guts.”

They stare at each other, the moment stretching out like infinity between them, two stubborn fools digging in their heels and refusing to give an inch. And then, out of nowhere, Izumi bursts into tears.

“Shit!” Katsuki reels back, stupidly not having expected that reaction. He steps forward almost immediately after, arms outstretched before he realizes how stupid he probably looks and instead shoves his hands deep in his pockets. “Fuck. Shit. Stop it, you goddamn crybaby.”

Izumi does not, in fact, stop crying—not that Katsuki really expected her too.

Instead, she curls in on herself, sobbing even harder and—fucking dammit— he reaches out and pulls her into a hug that she immediately reciprocates, hands fisting the back of his school jacket, nearly tearing the fabric with how tightly she’s holding it. She presses so close to him, it’s like she’s trying to crawl into his ribcage.

Fucking foxes and their tactile needs.

He lets her do whatever she needs with only minimal grumbling and bitchiness. She buries her nose in the space between his neck and chest, presses her hands all along his shoulders, and doesn’t let him drop the hug until her tears slow down enough that she can talk.

By the end of the whole process, Katsuki is sure he smells more like a Midoriya than most Midoriyas. 

But whatever. Izumi’s always had weird as fuck coping skills. This isn’t exactly new.

When he feels her death grip on his shirt weakening he speaks again. “Are you done?” he asks flatly and, for whatever reason, Izumi chuckles.

“No, probably not,” she tells him honestly. He huffs, hands moving from her back to her shoulders and pulling her away just a bit, just enough to look at her face.

“What. Happened.”

Her breath stutters in her chest and she won’t meet his eyes. She stays quiet for so long that he’s just about to repeat the question when she finally speaks. Of course though, she says it so quickly—practically spitting it into the air between them—that he doesn’t even understand what it is she said.

“Hah?”

She grits her teeth before going abruptly boneless, as if all the fight has just drained out of her. Katsuki immediately hates how defeated she looks and has to stop himself from shaking her in some childish hope that it might fix that look on her face.

“I can’t be a Hero, Kacchan.”

Katsuki blinks and feels very much like he’s somehow missed the last step on the staircase.

Cause what?

What the fuck is that supposed to mean? What crazy mirror verse has Katsuki suddenly found himself in that Midoriya fucking Izumi is actually saying the words ‘can’t’, ‘be’, and ‘Hero’ all in the same sentence?

Something must show on his face or his heart trips or some shit because she’s talking again without him having to prompt her. Well, it’s more like she begins word vomiting at him but she’s been doing that all five years he’s known her so he’s only a little annoyed by the habit at this point.

She spills everything. The story Nona told her and the realization and how the curse works. She tells him all about her running and using herself as a battering ram. About her questions and the nonanswers she got in return and about the way she feels like everything she’s ever known is shattered in pieces at her feet with no idea if she can even fix it, let alone how.

She’s crying again by the end of it, hiccuping little sobs and tear tracks on her cheeks.

Katsuki kind of wants to punch her in the face.

“So that’s it then?” he asks flatly. “You’re just gonna give up?”

Indignation rises slowly, then all at once, on Izumi’s face. Her eyes go hard and her ears are flat against her skull and she pulls her lips back to reveal all those too sharp teeth.

It’s a look he’s familiar with. More than anyone else in town, probably.

He pissed her off a lot in those early days. Dug himself in under all that sticky-sweet kindness, searching for some dark thing that just wasn’t there. She was patient and lenient and far too willing to put up with him, but every once in a while he’d push too far. He’d push and she’d snap right back at him with all the anger her pint-sized body could hold and more; an invisible, crackling weight in the air around her that would press on him until he felt he couldn’t breathe.

(He remembers being caught off guard every time it happened. He remembers feeling victorious and guilty in the face of her rage. He remembers preferring it to the tears.)

Katsuki wouldn’t prefer it now except for the fact that he’s pissed to hell and making Izumi angry is just as much a catharsis for him as it is an improvement over the dead-eyed look she had before.

Fuck. Izumi isn’t Izumi if she doesn’t have any fight left in her.

“I’m not giving up,” she practically snarls at him. 

His lips twist. “Sounds like you are to me.”

She sputters, mouth opening and closing without saying a word until: “Maybe you weren’t listening but there’s nothing I can do. I’m trapped! My whole family is trapped. Has been for generations and that’s not just going to change.”

“Not if you don’t do something about it it won’t.”

“Kacchan!” she yells, just on the wrong side of desperate, “There’s nothing I can do. We’ve been trapped here for two centuries. What? Do you think the whole skulk has just been sitting on their hands this whole time? They’ve tried but-”

“But you haven’t!” he shouts, flinging his hands out like that will force her to understand.

Instead she sputters, rolling her eyes. “And what can I do that the elders can’t? I’m thirteen. I haven’t even had my Witching Ceremony yet!”

“Are you a fox or not?” he shoots back. “Do you have magic or not? Have you been doing impossible things since the moment you were born or not?” he grabs her by the shoulders, staring down at her cause she’s always been short, and tries to force as much conviction in his voice as possible.

“Izumi you exist in spite of whatever shitty ass curse the skulk is under. Nothing about that makes sense. So stop whining about the thing you’ve already made your bitch just by fucking existing and start using you’re shitty-ass nerd brain to figure out a way to make it fuck off for good.”

Izumi’s staring at him, her eyes wide and swirling with too many emotions. He can read her like a book most days but not when that book is flipping through pages faster than he can keep up with.

He’s surprised she hasn’t started crying again; but then, maybe she doesn’t have enough tears left to cry. (Unlikely. If there’s an upper limit to Izumi’s tears they haven’t found it yet.)

“Do you mean it?” she asks. “Do you really believe I could do that?”

Katsuki scoffs. “Fucking obviously. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

Which is, you know, objectively a lie. He says a lot of shit he doesn’t mean because he’s an asshole and speaks before he thinks most of the time. Not that he cares, normally. If someone gets pissed off by the things he says that’s their problem, not his. 

But not this time.

He means it now. And he knows that Izumi knows it too.

Between one blink and the next Izumi is launching herself into his arms. She hits him like a goddamn cannonball to the chest, knocking them both onto the sand and probably giving him bruises.

He keeps swearing and yelling and trying to throw her off but she stays stubbornly attached to him, laughing like the little shit she is. It’s not until they somehow roll right into a wave does she let go, yelping and running back up the beach.

They’ve definitely already missed class, which he expected, so he doesn’t even think about it when he jumps up to chase after her for the next half an hour, yelling and screaming that he’s going to explode her face.

***

Kacchan was right, she knows, even if his delivery could use work.

She supposes that it’s a little bit her fault for being able to interpret his yelling so well that he never bothered to learn how to do anything else. He’s guilty of much the same when she talks fast enough that her words blur together and only he can understand and translate them.

Izumi has no idea how to go about breaking a centuries-old curse, but Kacchan was right.

Impossible things are her specialty.

***

The first thing Izumi does when she gets home later, after her mom has finished yelling about skipping class, is find Nona. She hasn’t spoken to her in a week, not since she called for her presence, but Izumi seeks her out now.

“I want to learn magic,” she says, and it’s as close to a demand as any of them can get in regards to Nona. They are family first, but none would dare speak to the Matriarch the way Izumi does.

But Izumi’s always spoken to Nona the way no one else dares. Izumi herself will be Matriarch one day, will be mighty, and that means something in the here and now.

So instead of indignation or anger or anything else, Nona just looks at her with fond amusement and says, “Well it’s about time.”

And that’s that, really.

***

@queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm

[poorlytunedukulele]

Day 13 - Night of the Hunter

September 13, 2872

It had all started with a cryptic message.

Andal Brask: Party.  Tuesday.  29°30'57.2"N 147°42'28.2"W.  ;)

Azra didn’t have much going on that day, so she figured why not?  If it didn’t end up being her scene she could always just leave.

Still, some paranoia (it wasn’t not paranoia if it was useful, she had to remind herself) made her want to check out the place beforehand.  Or maybe she was just bored.  In any case, she found herself staring at an empty patch of Pacific Ocean at around 1pm local time.  Andal’s coordinates had her smack dab in the middle of nowhere.  There weren’t even any islands nearby.  She flew her jumpship in lazy circles, wondering exactly what kind of prank he was playing.

It took her a good fifteen minutes to realize that Andal had never specified the coordinates were on Earth.  A quick check with her maps revealed that 29°30'57.2"N 147°42'28.2"W was at the peak of a very prominent mountain on Venus.

But there wasn’t a party site at the mountain, either.  There was a cache.  A cache with a cheeky note (written in unfamiliar hand) and another set of coordinates.  Those lead her to a cave on Mars, then an archive in Freehold, then a weird spire on Venus. 

Azra was having so much fun she almost forgot about the party.  There was a clue in a dead zone so full of interference even the GPS failed and she had to navigate by her map alone.  She had to go diving in a cenote for another.

Then one clue dropped her off in the middle of nowhere.  While she’d been galivanting about the system, night had fallen on the Appalachian Dead Zone.  She was in some unremarkable stretch of forest in the mountainscape.  There was nothing.  No tracks, no trail signs, no notes with hints, just the cooling night air.

Azra closed her eyes and listened.  And though there wasn’t any sounds to be heard over the wind, she did smell something.  Just the barest hint of smoke.  It grew stronger as the breeze picked up, so she followed her nose upwind.  She paused to listen frequently.  After a few minutes, she heard… something.  Were those voices in the distance?

Azra had finally found the party.  She hadn’t seen the fire because it was in a deep gully, hidden by foliage.  She crested the ridge and watched for a few minutes below as figures talked, danced, gestured, lit by the roaring flames.  It was hard to recognize anyone from the distance, but this had to be the right place.

Azra picked her way down the slope, social anxieties forgotten.  Why she’d needed to go through a scavenger hunt to get here she had no idea, but she wasn’t about to complain.  It had been fun.

The ground was slippery at the bottom of the valley (there was mud beneath the dead leaf cover).  Azra would have normally paused to gather herself before approaching, but she was robbed of the opportunity when she tripped and slid the last few meters.

She stumbled into the light of the fire.  A ragged cheer went up from those gathered- all Hunters, she noted.  Azra was mortified for a second, all eyes on her-

Then everyone went back to their conversations.

Almost everyone.  There were a few familiar faces in the crowd.  Andal ambled over, drink in hand, hood thrown back.  “Hey, you made it!  Wasn’t sure you would.”

“Liar,” Cayde called from across the clearing.  “You bet she’d get here before the night was up.”

“Didn’t mean I knew,” Andal countered, then turned his attention back to the young Hunter.  “How long ago did you start looking?”

“Uh… four hours ago?”

Andal raised an eyebrow.  “Scoping out the site early, I see.  It’s not even dark in the Pacific yet.”

“I was bored.”

“You bored now?” Cayde asked as he also came over.  He slung an arm over her shoulders and gestured.  “Welcome to the cool kid’s club.”

“Is that what it’s called?”  Azra asked.  “With capital letters and everything?  The Cool Kids Club?”

“No,” Andal sighed, “but it should be.”

“Only the cool kids get invites,” Cayde explained.  “Only the good kids actually find the place in time.  So here we’ve got ourselves a bunch of good, cool kids.  That includes you, now.”

“Who arranged all of this?” Azra asked. 

Andal shrugged.  “Someone from Dead End Cure, this time.  Sometime tonight there’ll be a contest to see who has the honor next year.  Speaking of honor, did you remember your party etiquette?”

Spark answered by transmatting two bottles of rum into his Guardian’s hands.  She waggled them in a proud boast.

“Brought the good stuff, I see!” an unfamiliar voice said.  “Though I don’t recognize you.”

Azra turned as a stranger approached.  They were half a head shorter than she was, leanly muscled, with dark skin and a camouflage-patterned cape.  Azra glanced for half a second at Andal, who shook his head.

“You’re going to have to do a lot of introducing tonight,” the Gunslinger said.  He clapped her on her shoulder and wandered off to talk with Shiro and another unfamiliar Exo.

Message received: you stand for yourself here, no help from me.

“I’m Azra Jax,” she said, transferring the bottles to her left arm so she could stick out her right hand.  “My Ghost is Spark.”

“Name’s Puck,” the Hunter said, taking her hand and shaking it firmly.

“It suits you,” Azra said without thinking.  They had a certain mischievous air about them.  That didn’t stop Azra from immediately regretting opening her mouth.  These were new people, she couldn’t go around saying whatever asinine thing came into her head first.

But instead of taking offense, the other Hunter just smiled.  “Thanks!  I picked it myself.  I think I have heard of you before, but I can’t recall when.  You frequent the ADZ?”

“No more than anywhere else,” Azra replied.  “Um.  I did some stuff at Twilight Gap.”  She really hoped it was that and not the other thing people always recognized, but the other Hunter’s face remained contemplative.

Puck shook their head.  “Fun story, actually.  I was stuck on Venus that whole time.  My ship got shot down and nobody could come pick me up.  I don’t think that’s it.”

Azra realized she’d be having this conversation a lot tonight.  She considered just leaving.  Booze and a bonfire didn’t really outweigh hours of curiosity she’d have to entertain.  “I’m the Arcstrider,” she said, aware of the weariness in her voice.

“Oh, yeah!” Puck’s eyes lit with recognition.  “Say no more.”  A pause.  “Damn, aren’t you like, four?”

“Yeeeessss?” Azra said.

“Andal!” Puck barked.  The Gunslinger ambled back over with Cayde and Shiro in tow.  He was trying to suppress a grin and failing. 

“You didn’t break the rules, did you?”  Puck demanded.  “No hints.”

Andal bowed.  “No, ma’amsiree.  Just the starting coordinates.  And a winky face.”

“I told you ‘sir’ is fine,” Puck sighed.

“I think mine is the more elegant solution,” Andal said with an air of superiority.  “Rolls off the tongue.  ‘Sir’ sounds like ‘zir’ and then we all get confused about how formal we’re being.”

Azra had already lost where the conversation was going.  “I ended up staring at the Pacific Ocean for a while before I realized what was up,” she offered.  “Also I have no idea what you’re arguing about.”

“Listen,” Puck said.  “Zavala uses ‘sir’.  Sloane uses ‘sir’.  Nobody is going around saying ‘him yes him’!  It’s never going to get confused.  Yours just sounds dumb.”

Azra turned to her Ghost for help, but he just did a shrug-twirl and floated closer to her shoulder.  “I didn’t spend a lot of time with people before meeting you,” he whispered.  “I have no idea either.”  Puck and Andal continued their debate, to Azra's befuddlement.

“Somebody please explain it to the newbie before she gets an aneurysm?” Shiro interrupted.  "She's turning red."

Puck turned to face her, dark eyes flashing in the firelight.  “Okay, fine.”  Azra knew that tone of voice.  It was identical to the one she’d used earlier, a weary ‘let’s get this over with’.  Puck spoke slowly.  “So I’m not a ‘ma’am’.”

“You’ve made that very clear, sir,” Azra said.  

“I’m not technically much of a ‘sir’ either,” Puck explained.

Azra’s brain plugged the new information into her equation and threw up an error message in response.

Andal cackled.  “I’m not sure we’re out of aneurysm territory, my fey friend.”

Azra held up her hands.  “You just spent like two minutes arguing-“

“I’m sure we could drag this on for another few,” Shiro said, “but let’s not.  Puck uses ‘ze’ and ‘zir’.  Andal always complains about honorifics because he likes smashing words together in terrifying new ways.”

“That’s it?” Azra said.

“There is no widely accepted gender-neutral honorific,” Andal said.  “But one day…”

“Really trying to change the world, this one,” Puck muttered.  Ze looked at Azra with a question in zir eyes.  Does this have to be a conversation?

“Uh.. it suits you?” was all Azra could think of.

Andal grinned and nudged Puck with an elbow.  Puck rolled zir eyes. 

Azra turned on her Gunslinger friend.  “Your solution to the ma’am/sir issue was ma’amsiree?”

“It’s in beta,” Andal said.  “Still working out the kinks.”

“It’s a wonder you haven’t come across this problem before if you’ve been running with him,” Puck said.  “Referring to people in… interesting ways is kind of his thing.”

Azra shrugged.  “That’s the trick.  I just don’t refer to people in general.”

“If it really bothers you, Puck, I’ll stop,” Andal offered.  “I was getting the vibe that you liked that bit, but I’m always willing to be proven wrong.”

Puck just laughed.  “As long as you don’t teach the newbies any bad habits.”

“I am sorry to inform you it is far too late for that,” Shiro intoned.  “The puns, Puck.  They get so much worse when she’s around.”

“Well see if I share my liquor with you,” Azra groused.  “I had to go into the City proper to get this stuff.”

Puck eyed the bottles she still cradled in her arms.  “Well, since you brought two, you deserve a present.  Come on.”  Ze swatted her shoulder until she moved to stand by a mostly-empty folding table.  Puck vaulted easily on to the table and stood.

“Hey!” ze shouted, clapping zir hands once.  All conversation died immediately.  “Public service announcement!  This,” ze gestured down to where Azra stood, frozen in shock, “Is Azra Jax.  She’s an Arcstrider.  Oooooo.  Big mystery.”  The Hunter waved zir hands in a spooky gesture, voice dripping with sarcasm.  “Here’s the deal: if any of you bug her about it, she gets permission to stab you.” 

“She won’t stab anyone even if they bug her,” Cayde called.  “She’s shy.”

“Then I give Cayde permission to stab you,” Puck said blithely.  Cayde made a silent gesture of celebration, which Puck ignored.  “I just eliminated a lot of boring conversation.  You’re welcome.”

“Is giving Cayde permission to stab people a good idea?” someone asked.

“Better not toe the line then, shouldya?”  Puck waggled a finger, then jumped nimbly down from zir table.  The hum of conversation resumed after a few seconds.

“Thanks,” Azra said.

Puck waved her off.  “I’m the host, it’s my job.  Drinks go over there.  Ashton left to get pizza like two godsdamned hours ago, you’re welcome to some whenever that gets here.  No explosions or ordinance unless some Fallen show up.  Be nice.  No bothering Azra about being an Arcstider.  That’s all the party rules as of now.”  Ze fixed her with a stern glare.  “Don’t make me add any more.”

There was a loud crack- a branch snapping under someone’s foot.  A cheer went up as an unfamiliar Hunter walked into the clearing. 

“That’s my cue,” Puck said, giving a sly wink.  “Have fun.”  The Hunter strode off to welcome the next person to the party.

"Come on," Cayde urged.  "I don't think you've been introduced to Mot Balek.  I have to be there to see that."

AO3 Linky

[lordcarlisle]

C L O U X

Headcannon A-Z

Answered under the Cut!

Caregiver: Harry is the kind of person who tried to take care of everyone; he's often a chronic people pleaser. If someone asked for his help he would say yes usually before he even knows what he's helping with. He would help with anything from house moving to babysitting. He is the kind of person who wants to make life easier for others. That being said, he is abysmal at receiving help and he will bend over backwards before he relents to be helped.

Lover: Harry is someone who thinks love is very important but doesn't really know how to express it. His bringing wasn't about outward shows of love. Harry is affectionate in his own way. He is a gift-giver, in that if he sees something that he thinks would cheer up someone that he cares about he will get it for them without hesitation. His gift-giving also extends to cooking and baking. If he makes a meal or a dessert for you, you can know that he is showing his affections, whether romantic or otherwise. But for someone who has a lot of love to give, he spends little on himself.

Organizer: Harry is usually organized, but he definitely is the kind of person who has his own system that can oftentimes be confusing for others. It's a sort of organized chaos in a way. However, it is very obvious when his system falls apart and he starts to unravel. That is usually brought on by a bad case at work, his mental health taking a dip, or a family issue.

Ugly: Harry does not consider himself attractive no matter how many times his friend, family, and partners have told him so. Years of abuse from his father and brother overshadowed his physical self-confidence. Traits in people that he finds unattractive would include unabashed cruelness, unearned and obnoxious self-importance, and those who think themselves to be much cleverer than they actually are.

Xceptional: The person he finds most exceptional in life would probably be his mother, solely because he finds it to be exceptional that she still somehow has a love for his father. When it comes to excitement, Harry gets rather engaged in cricket, which causes much teasing. Also, the closer he gets to solving a case the more excited he becomes. His excitement often manifests itself through excessive grinning and chattiness. Rules with exceptions are a whole other kettle of fish. He likes to think that he never breaks his own rules but often finds that he might have one drink too many or sneak a quick smoke at lunch. His rule-breaking and his vices go hand in hand.

[anomander-dragnipurake]

Bowser’s Castle Chapter One: Anger

First off, this fic is an alternate path for Possessed, breaking off from it at the end of part one. Second, the reason it exists: Bowuigi is my OTP for this fandom. So while playing Superstar Saga for the first time, when I reached the part where Cackletta possesses Bowser, which happened around the time I started working on part 2 of Possessed, I naturally made the connection that Bowletta and Booigi are very similar in nature. My next thought was that after that experience perhaps Bowser would be disgusted by the idea of possession and thus wish to do something about King Boo possessing Luigi which was the sole thought that ultimately led to this fic. And I know It's implied at the end that Bowser doesn't remember anything that happened to him while Cackletta was controlling and that he doesn't even know that that's what happened but that's less fun so we're just going to ignore that for the sake of the fic.

~

Luigi’s car was still where King Boo had parked it, making it easy to circle round to it and find. Where to now? Luigi asked with a mental sigh as King Boo hopped in.

‘Uh…’ King Boo paused, holding Luigi’s hand on the ignition. ‘I don’t actually know. I didn’t think this idea would work so I didn’t plan for anything beyond this point. … You don’t have any more friends, do you?’

No. Unlike Mario he’d never been good at making friends. And the few friends he’d met in adventures, he’d never had the courage to try to keep in contact with them.

King Boo laughed. ‘You’re so pathetic, it’s funny.’

Luigi already knew he was pathetic; he knew it better than anyone. There was nothing funny about it though; he hated it even while lacking the willpower to change it.

‘Whatever though. I can think of at least one more person who should have a fun reaction to this situation.’

Who? Out of decency most people would dislike this situation but Luigi couldn’t think of anyone else who’d have a ‘fun reaction’.

King Boo didn’t reply as he started the car at last. Apparently, Luigi would just have to wait and see.

***

“Lord Bowser sir, King Boo’s here to see you,” the goomba said as they poked their head into the room. “He’s possessing an uh… ‘meatsuit’ as he calls it and he says he wants to talk to you. He’s waiting for you in the throne room.” Message delivered, they fled, as most goombas tended to do for fear of getting yelled at for delivering unwanted news, and thus no clarifying questions could be asked.

“King Boo’s the one who beat Mario up, right?” Bowser Jr. said before Bowser could even decide if he wanted to bother with trying to call the goomba back for more questions.

From the way Bowser had heard it, ‘beating up Mario’ wasn’t quite what King Boo had done. It was close enough though so… “Yeah, supposedly three times.” And Bowser was jealous about it but he wasn’t about to show that in front of his son.

Looking back down at the kitten still carefully cradled in his hands – Bowser had been teaching him the proper way to handle them – Junior gave her another little pet. “Maybe that’s what he wants to talk to you about. If you two teamed up, you’d be unstoppable, right? You could take over the whole Mushroom Kingdom and more.”

“Maybe, I don’t know.” And it that was it, would Bowser go with that idea? On one hand it would be a guaranteed victory against Mario but on the other it would mean working with King Boo.

“Let’s go see then. I want meet him.” With exaggerated care, Junior gently placed the kitten back on the cat bed with her siblings and mama before hopping up and rushing out of the room. He didn’t even bother to close the door behind him.

With a sigh, Bowser rose to his feet too. He’d have preferred to ignore King Boo until he left but it probably wouldn’t have worked anyway. Might as well go see what he wanted to hopefully get rid of him fairly quickly.

Moving far slower than Junior meant Junior reached the throne room well before Bowser did. Upon approaching it, Bowser could hear his chatter from halfway down the hall.

“… still in there? Or is he like gone now?”

King Boo’s reply was spoken much softer, rendering it indecipherable. Which was odd all by itself but his voice didn’t sound as high pitched as it should.

“Isn’t that going a bit far then? Like… it’s kind of super creepy to think about even if he is one of the bad guys.”

Bowser reached the throne room. Junior had perched himself on the arm of the throne so that he would thoroughly tower over the fellow that stood at the bottom of the throne’s dais who was decidedly not King Boo because he was human.

“His suffering is the whole point though,” the fellow said. He then turned his grin towards Bowser. “Hey Bowser, it’s been while, huh?”

"Who are you?" He was familiar but Bowser couldn’t place where he’d seen him before.

“You really don’t recognize me? I guess that’s to be expected though. It’s a-me King Boo.” He laughed, very boo-like but also very not. “And guess what I’ve done.”

Bowser’s scowl deepened to hind his confusion because why and how was King Boo suddenly human and why did Bowser recognize him? “What?”

“I’ve thoroughly defeated the Mario bros, so much so, they had me captured in a cell but Mario let me go almost right away. Not that he could’ve kept me locked up for long anyway but that’s beside the point. I’ve utterly defeated them, something you’ve failed to do time and time again.”

With an angry growl, Bowser strode all the way over to grab King Boo by the neck to lift him to face height. “How?” He was clearly missing something here and he didn’t like it. He also didn’t like King Boo’s new form or him coming here to gloat about defeating Bowser’s enemy.

“Even as stupid as you are, I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that this body of mine is familiar.” He seemed totally unphased by Bowser’s manhandling. “That’s because it’s Luigi’s, Mario’s brother, I possessed him and am now using him as a meatsuit.”

Bowser’s initial flash of rage at being called ‘stupid’ was immediately replaced by revulsion. Possession and his body being controlled by another being was something he had personal experience with and honestly it was probably the worst thing that had ever happened him, he still had nightmares about it sometimes. So this disgusted him on a personal level.

“Stop it,” he said, squeezing King Boo’s neck a little harder.

“Stop what?”

“Possessing him!”

Another boo-like laugh that sounded creepily strange coming from a voice that wasn’t a boo’s. “You disapprove, really? And here I was thinking you’d just be jealous over how thoroughly I beat the Mario bros when you never could.”

“It’s disgusting so stop it.” Bowser breathed a puff of smoke in his face.

“Nope! And there’s nothing you can do to make me stop. Unless you want to kill Luigi, I guess. It would be a disappointedly quick end to my game but go ahead if…”

Bowser growled and headbutted him as hard enough to make his own head hurt a little. King Boo made another small laugh that faded out as he went limp, his eyes sliding shut.

“Uh… Papa, did you just knock him out?”

Bowser turned to face Junior, still standing on the throne’s armrest. “This is disgusting.” He gestured with the limp body. Junior hadn’t been there for the incident with Cackletta so he probably didn’t get why Bowser was so enraged by this. He didn’t have time to explain right now though because he had to deal with it.

“KAMEK!” He stamped his foot hard enough to shake the whole room a little.

It was maybe a grand total of five seconds before little old Kamek was rushing into the room.  “Yes, Lord Bowser?” he said, wheezing a little from the run over.

“Take care of this,” he said, pushing the now not so green fellow towards Kamek.

“Um… may I ask what this is? And what exactly you’d like me to do with it.”

Bowser groaned but thankfully, Junior, hopped down from his perch to explain the situation better and faster than Bowser probably ever could. He was a smart kid.

“Okay so uh… you want me to get King Boo out of him?” Kamek asked when the explanation was finished.

“Yes!” Bowser thrust the body towards him again.

“Sir, I don’t intend to be contrarian but this is King Boo we’re talking about here, I’m not sure if I can…”

“Just do it!” Bowser stomped his foot again. This was his castle; things were done his way here. If he wanted King Boo forced out of Greenie’s body, then Kamek was going to find a way to do it whether he liked it or not.

“Yes sir.”  Kamek saluted before gesturing a couple shyguys over to take the body from Bowser to carry away presumably to his lab.

“Does this mean we’re going to be at war with King Boo’s kingdom now?” Junior asked after all the minions had filed away and it was just the two of them again.

“I don’t know and I don’t care.” It would probably be awkward if that did happen because some of his minions were boos, asking them to fight their own kind was bound to cause issues. Also, how did one wage war against ghosts? Yeah sure, sometimes boos could be defeated by physical force, but normal ghost certainly couldn’t be. But those were only potential future problems and thus he wasn’t going to worry about how to deal with them until they came to pass. For now, he was angry and wanted to punch something until it broke into a million pieces.

[minthysugamon]

Barell of a Gun (Hitman! Jimin x Reader)

(Warnings: This one is pretty dark. Please don't read if you feel uncomfortable at the mentions of Paid Murder,Gambling,Uncomfortable Situations and Kidnapping. This doesn't depict Jimin's real personality. It's only a work of fiction. Please don't associate Jimin with this after you read it,he isn't like that in real life. IT IS ONLY A WORK OF FICTION BASED ON A JAMES BOND-AGENT 47 TYPE OF CONDUCTING LINE)

Word count: 2045

As soon as night has fallen,he started to get ready. Pen,check. Knives,check. 9mm,check. Everything was going perfectly. Park Jimin never paid attention to the victim. At least,he never let his emotions rule over the goal he had in front of him. And that goal was the 1,000,000$ he will get after he eliminated the person in the portfolio. It's a well paid price,and until he does the job without being noticed,it's worth it. He never accorded time to his emotions. It's a rational job,find the person,eliminate them,get paid. Nothing really hard. He prefers to say eliminate because killing would make his targets look like victims,whilst most of them are just rotten people.

"Agent 91,welcome. Please type in the password to unlock." His computer displayed the following words. He typed it in once. Doesn't work. The fourth time,same thing happened. "Fuck. Not again. I don't have time for this shit right now." Jimin was starting to get agitated. The fifth time,he just scanned his retina,hoping it would work. And it did. Thankfully. Because if it hadn't,the whole fuck-up would've cost him a lot of money and primarily his life,probably.

While sitting in the car,you had some Depeche Mode song your brother was blasting earlier in his room,stuck on repeat in your head. It was called Barrel of a Gun or something,the guitar riff was kinda cool so it stuck to your neurones. The ride to the casino was accompanied by an awkward silence,your date for the night has chosen some pompous place to dine at and now wanted to go gamble some money away. He was the son of some rich politician at your school,of course he would do something like that. "Did you like the meal?" The guy placed a hand on your knee,not as if you had asked,but for the moment you didn't do anything. "Yes,i liked it,even thought the wine was a little bit dry for my taste." He simply smirked and rolled up the partition in the back of the Limousine before his hand has made its way higher up on your thigh. "Well..if it can comfort you,i know that something won't be as dry as the wine tonight." Breaking point. You took his hand into yours and simply smiled. "Jacques,listen. I appreciate your gestures and all,but please,please,pretty please,don't ever fucking touch me again without me consenting to it." You heard a pop coming from the bone of his hand,not realising you were literally almost breaking it so you had let it go.

Jimin had stepped into the grand hall of the Casino of Monte Carlo,getting the casual verifications done. He stood at the roulette table,and since he had some time to kill,he didn't mind gambling away some thousands. The main point was to blend in,not to be outstanding. "Mesdames,Messieurs,Faites-vos jeux." He had forgotten how wonderful the french language sounds...as wonderful as a cat choking on some plastic wrap. His bet was put on the number 3,his lucky number. Not that he was superstitious,but it always brought him chance,so...why not this time? "Les Jeux sont faits." As soon as the roulette started spinning,he looked around himself and finally saw his target. But it wasn't planned that he will have company.

Sitting besides Jacques while he was playing a hand,needless to say,it was more than just boring. You never wanted to go home as much as you did now. Plus,the high-heels were killing your feet,it was a plus reason for you to just get up and leave. But you didn't. Simply because he was already kind enough to take you on a date,so,you had nothing more to do than just sit beside him and observe. Jacques wasn't good at Poker,even if he liked to think the opposite,and his loss was already over 100,000€. If he were a simple man,he would already be indebted,but it wasn't the case. The game only started to be interesting when another man sat down at the table and joined the party.

"May i?" Jimin asked with a small smile on his lips. He knew his target was beside him,it will be easier to calculate his every moves. But he didn't realise it will be harder since you were in the frame too. As soon as the game started,he saw that the guy wasn't good at playing,only bluffing,so,he took this to his advantage and told himself he will use the "I'm just tryna help you bro" card later. Jimin's eyes were mostly on you though,and he didn't calculate his emotions,but he would've been lying if he said you weren't beautiful.

You were looking at the cards in Jacques's hands. Seeing the 3 others on the table,he was already fucked,but of course,he had to bluff. "50,bet" echoed from the man beside you and everyone folded. Except one. The new player at the table. "Oh...i see you play with big amounts...let me make it more interesting then. Calling 1600." The black haired man's proposition made you jump a little bit. It wasn't only 1600€,but 1,600,000. "So..? What do you think? Reasonable proposition,no? Or...are you scared of losing?" The guy smirked and your partner stood up. "I'm going for a smoke. Pause the game." "Man,it isn't such a bad proposition,but okay...let's say 1,400,000 to save your honor." He followed Jacques to the balcony. Which was a pretty bad idea knowing how he can get when he's angry,you knew how out of hand the situation could get,he was the same at Uni. Anger Issues was his middle name.

Jimin was only trying to provoke the poor guy. Poor...let's not say that. He was the kid of an asshole that got rich by scamming poor people. Let alone,the father was a politician. The only way for Jimin to attain his final target was to hurt him. Not that he had to,but it was more effective this way. "Stop fucking following me. I have enough of your gimmicks. I saw how you were looking at him. You're on a date with me,not him." The hitman simply laughed. "Oh..you thought your little girlfriend came after you? Believe me,she has better things to do. Now,if you excuse me..." Gun cocked. Silencer already on. And fire. The bullet went straight through the younger one's head,in between the eyes. "Bull's eye. Good." As the body of the guy has fallen,Jimin started to wipe his silencer and put the pistol away. Too bad the girl was at the balcony as he did it.

"What the fuck have you done? WHO THE FU-" You screamed at him,but the scream hadn't live to its full potential as the guy from the table had silenced you with a hit to your head. You woke up five hours later,tied to a chair,in a living room in some old ass apartment,still propably in southern France. "Rise and shine babygirl,you're safe now. My name is...you have no buisness knowing it,but call me 91. Or Jay. Whatever suits you." As you looked around you,you saw nothing you could recognise. Only the feeling of the rag on your mouth was prominent,with the bounds around your wrists and legs. "I guess i should take off the gag...but can i trust you to not scream?" You nodded,already planning to get away somehow. As Jay took off the gag you inhaled and tried to scream but he had his hand in front of your mouth. "I should've killed you when i had the chance. I didn't need any kind of witnesses. But here i am,trying to plan out something so you don't talk. Now. Stop screaming or i'll send a bullet flying through your brain. Also..what's your name again?" He knew it of course...but wanted to hear it as he took off his hand of your mouth and looked at you. "Wasn't that your initial plan? And my name is (Y/n)." The sass in your words left him surprised enough to smile and unload his gun. "Wow,getting sassy i see. I like it." "Why did you kill him? Was it because he was involved in some shady buisness?" You talked way more than you should have. And Jimin liked that. More information means more time...which means a better approach towards the target. "What do i look like? A social justice warrior? Honey,i get paid for shit like this. But now,my only problem is you. What should i do with you? You weren't in the frame. And now you are here,bound to a chair...don't get me wrong,i like the view,but you shouldn't have wandered away from that goddamn table yesterday." You simply lowered your head and looked at his hands. He was fidgeting. Unable to decide what he should do. "You should probably kill me then. I mean,if i am too much to handle,and since you know i'll be talking as soon as i get out of here,you should just choke me to death...quick and effective." He smiled and took your chin with two fingers so you were looking into his eyes. "Let me think about it. But i already know i won't kill you...in the end,you're truly innocent so..there would be no fun in that." "So...you're pretty much a social justice warrior then" He let your chin go and stood up to walk around the apartment.

Jimin knew killing you would've made too much mess,plus,cleaning the whole appartment after it would have taken too much time. Plus...he kinda started to like you. You were the type of girl he could settle with. So he went with plan B...or more like,he wanted to go with plan b which was about to let you go and threaten you to not talk. But as soon as he heard footsteps coming towards the apartment,Jimin changed his mind and chose Plan C. "You'll be coming with me. We have to get away. I already lost more than 3 hours with you getting in my way."

You were quickly untied and he secured a gun around your thigh. "You know how to use one? Just in case,to be safe." Why on earth would he give you a gun? "I could kill you right now if i wanted." "Yeah,i know,but you don't want to. That's the positive point. Now open the window and get out." God knows why you obeyed him,but it was almost automatic. Did you like the rush of the situation? Maybe yes. Maybe it was simply because you were scared...maybe it was because you kind of liked the way the whole situation turned out. He was following you as soon as he cleared the area,and unlocked his car. "Get in. I'll be here soon. No more than 2 minutes." "Huh? Where the fuck are you going?" "Getting my shit and then i'll be here." And with that,he was already on his way.

No more than two minutes after,he was back with his suitcase and the briefcase containing some papers,his pc and most importantly,the money. "Buckle the belt. We'll be on the road for 10 to 15 hours..." "Where are we going?" He simply smiled and turned the engine on. "Let that be a surprise..." "So...you're pretty much kidnapping me,right?"

He chuckled and looked into the rear-view mirror. "It's better than the barrel of a gun against your head at least. And...you'll see,it won't be as bad as you think."

Was this really the life you were about to live? Probably. Was it safe? Probably not,but did you have any other choice? No. But...little did you know,it wasn't as bad as it seemed.

(Y'all,i'm sorry if it is bad...i really wanted something different but in the end idk...it doesn't seem good to me...i let you all be the judge)

[hitokayachichi]

⛧ you get me closer to god; a tendou satori fic ⛧

⛧ ... school stress makes you do crazy things!! ...like try to summon your guardian angel and summon a demon instead  ⛧

⛧ ... first part of my sadist!tendou series hehe

⛧ ... ahh a little bit is inspired by seita, both for the idea of sadist!tendou, but her blog is rly supportive and welcoming has also given me the confidence to write lewds, and I really appreciate that :>

wc: 6.5k

cw: demon!Tendou, smut, degredation, praise, corruption kink, sadist!tendou, bdsm elements, pet names :>, spit kink, dumbification kind of, there might be something else i cant remember hhfkdjfs

Staring at your open notebook, you rub your eyes tiredly. It’s only one in the afternoon, but your Precalculus class has drained all of your energy. Your professor was absolutely insane, assigning so much homework. Doesn’t he know that college students take more than one class per semester? In your head, you’re already planning out the order in which you’re going to have to do your assignments and when. How late you’re going to have to stay up. All you want to do is take a nap after your last class, but will you even have time for that?

Class is over now, so you pack up your things and leave. At least your next class is much easier. Your Creative Writing professor is super sweet and you’d take a bullet for her, probably. Besides, your friend, Mayu, will be there, too. She always makes you feel better. Mayu has a sweet, but a little chaotic personality that usually rejuvenates you on bad days.

And there she is, waiting at one of the seats in the hallway. Once she sees you, she waves you over to the table excitedly. Her laptop and notebooks are out because she had a half-hour break between classes, and you gently push the notebooks aside to sit next to her.

“Hey, (y/n) guess what! I finally figured out your issue for Precal!” Normally Mayu is on some kind of bullshit, but since you were texting her during class earlier, it piqued your interest.

“Hmm?”

“Look!” Mayu exclaims, pointing at her computer screen. You lean over and it looks like she’s on some sort of forum webpage? It doesn’t look like any popular one that you’ve seen before, but you squint, trying to read.

... angel summoning?

“Mayu, what the hell?” As you read the forum page, you become more and more confused. The users spoke about chalk circles and meditation and wine and bread to summon your ancestral guardians, or something like that. It’s a little too much, right now. Your brain is still spinning from class.

Mayu is into some pretty unconventional things, so you aren’t exactly surprised, but each and every time she suggests some odd thing, you’re still a little... impressed with what she finds. “Okay, listen!” You look at her, and she just smiles at the way you’re telling her to shut up with your eyes. It’s never worked on her.

“Hear me out, (y/n). This is something I’ve actually done before, so I can one hundred thousand per cent guarantee that it works, I promise you.” A huge part of you wants to roll your eyes at her, but once again, you aren’t exactly surprised that she would have attempted something like this. “I met my guardian angel and she’s the one that helped me get accepted here! She guided me during my application and here I am!”

You just stare at her. “Right...”

“I swear on my life!” She begins to pack up her things, now that class is soon to start, and you shake your head at her. But by now she was finished with the conversation and is prattling about some girl she met in one of her other classes.

It’s so stupid, but the whole class, your mind keep tabs on that forum, just at the edge of consciousness.

⛧  … 

It’s 2:13 am and you very much hate your life. You’re exhausted and stressed. It’s way past your normal bedtime but you just have so much Precal homework to do. You feel like you’re drowning. Maybe it’s just because it’s late and you’re tired, but you can’t seem to stop thinking about what Mayu suggested. Mayu might be into some pretty odd things, but she most definitely isn’t dumb. If she’s said she’s done it before... maybe summoning an angel really does work?

You shake your head. That’s stupid. Rubbing your eyes, you get back to your homework. You have thirteen more questions left on this assignment, and then another fifteen question one. There’s no time to mess around.

So why can’t you get it out of your head?

You last six minutes before texting Mayu.

She tells you to make a sugar circle in your room, with bread and wine in the middle. It’s just you in your tiny studio apartment, and you’re a little too busy to really bake anything that needs sugar, so all you have is a tiny little thing that you use for your coffee. It’s not nearly enough to make a circle with. You use salt instead. Wine isn’t a drink that you typically have on hand either, but you have some leftover vodka that someone had left from a rare party that you had hosted like a year ago. It’s alcohol, so you figure it’ll work. The only thing that you actually had from what Mayu texted was bread, but you have a disappointing feeling that sliced bread from the grocery store isn’t quite what she meant either.

But you’re summoning an angel, after all. None of this is really as it seems.

There is a chant that Mayu sent you in what she says is Hebrew. That.. isn’t a language that you speak, so you know for a fact you aren’t going to say it right. You don’t know if it even truly is Hebrew. But once you draw the circle, light the red candle (Mayu said a white candle, but you only had red, so), and set up the alcohol and bread, you begin chanting.

Mayu had told you to go through the chant only once. But, doing so once, nothing happened. Twice, nothing happened. Thrice, with the same result. There was no smoke, no poof of magic, and most importantly, no guardian angel. Nothing.

You sigh, disappointed with yourself. The one time you trust Mayu’s ridiculousness, and it ends up like this. How could you be so dumb? Of course, no guardian angel is going to save you from math homework. If they even exist at all, they definitely have much more important things to do than a college student’s work. Sitting back down at your desk, you shoot a quick text to Mayu that it didn’t work.

She says to be patient, that it might come at one of the angel numbers. You don’t know what that is, but you’re tired. At this point, you just want to finish a couple more questions, then head to bed. The rest will be an issue for the future (y/n) to deal with.

But, as much as you wish to sleep, something keeps you up. You retired to your bed half an hour ago, at three. Most of your homework is completed, except for maybe a few questions. That’s something you can do before class, though. If you manage to fall asleep, that is.

There’s this itch underneath your skin, tingles with every move you make. It’s been like this for a while. you think. Maybe you’re getting sick. It’s hot, but you don’t feel like you have a fever. No, this is something different. The heat isn’t focused in your head, and you aren’t sweaty. Subconsciously, your thighs are clamped shut, hips softly moving. It feels good. You feel a little high.

The red light of your alarm clock illuminates your face as you stare at the time.

3:33 AM

Oh.

A little bit of you understands, but your mind has become a little hazy, a little foggy like cold November mornings. From the horror movies you’ve watched, seeing this specific time blinking red is unsettling.

Almost as if on queue, the floorboards creak in the hallway. Your cunt clenches, and you can’t help it. There are goosebumps on your arms, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight. Slowly, you sit up. You normally leave a nightlight plugged into the socket across from your door in the hallway so that you don’t have to turn on a blinding light when you need to use the restroom at night. You can see it through the gap under your door, unless something is blocking it.

You watch the shine of the light disappear.

There’s someone in front of your door.

Curling your toes, you hold your breath, waiting. At this point, you think, there’s nothing you can do.

Slowly, steadily, you hear the lock on your door click, and watch as the door slowly opens.

Clearly, the summoning had worked.

But this is no angel.

Mottled black and purple horns protrude from the figure’s head, just barely illuminated by the dull lamp at your bedside table. His hair is red, and stands up. There’s a predatory smirk on his face, and your body heats. He’s wearing black ripped jeans and a leather jacket, and the skin on his knees look normal, but his hands are shaded a gradient of black and purple.

This, no questions asked, is a demon.

You frown, corners of your mouth wobbling. Surely, you are going to die, but you can’t help but feel something else. The way the demon looks at you is hungry, and it should not be so arousing. Perhaps he is going to eat your soul. But you think the fear does something for you too.

“Ah,” the demon says, smiling with sharp teeth. “How cute,” All you can do is stare at him. “How lucky am I to have someone as innocent as you,” the demon purrs and steps closer to your bed. “Look at the way you’re trembling, darling,” he reaches a finger out, and his nails are black and clawed. You can feel the tip of it on your chin, poking at you, and you lift your head with the movement of his finger to look him right in the eyes. You didn’t realize that you were shaking, but you stop now, paralyzed as you look into his eyes. They’re ravenous, and dark. No pupils, just blackness, but it’s piercing. There’s no way to really tell where he is looking, but you know that he’s staring straight through you.

The demon leans down to get level with you, where you sit up in bed. He grins, and his teeth are so sharp.

He’s going to tear you apart.

“Darling,” he murmurs, and his forked tongue darts out to lick at a tear you didn’t feel slide down your cheek. “I’m going to have so much fun with you,”

Once again, you tremble at his words. You have no idea what that means, but you’re certain these are your last moments. Taking a deep breath, you speak. “Are you going to eat me?” You mumble, quietly. The demon laughs loudly at you.

“Oh, sweetheart, cute. Of course, I’m going to eat you right up, how could I not?” He leans down further to lap at your neck, and your thighs clench together. Something about the sensation of his tongue and his proximity to you is so.. intoxicating, yet terrifying at the same time. You don’t know what to feel. Maybe you do want him to eat you.

“Am I going to die?” He lays you down, amused at your questions. You go pliantly, his tongue leaving you boneless. “No, not if you’re a good girl. Not if you don’t want to die. Do you want to die? Or do you want to be a good girl?” You are quiet for a moment, as you decide. A part of you wouldn't mind if you were eaten by him. His presence leaves your head foggy, almost as if you were tipsy on sweet wine. Perhaps you were just tipsy on his scent. He smells like earth and smoke and sulfur, something that makes your nose itch and your head hurt but leaves your thighs clenched together in the same breath. 

"No... I suppose I don't want to die," you whisper, as if speaking any louder will whisk him away. 

"So you're going to be my good girl, darling?" His right-hand slides over your chest and ghosts over your throat, his feeling of his fingertips lingering. He cups your jaw, thumb pulling at the corner of your mouth, and you only gaze at him, mesmerized. "Well, pretty? Good girls answer when asked a question." You nod, squeezing your eyes shut just for a moment.

"I-" you stutter when his left-hand slips under your sleep shirt, caressing the expanse of your stomach. "I'll be your good girl, um. Demon, sir." The demon laughs genuinely at that, leaning down to pull you in a short yet sultry kiss. He tastes like sweet nectarines, saccharine and syrupy, and you want to taste more. 

"You can call me Satori, sweetheart." Satori hums, kissing you once again. as if he knows how much you loved how he tasted. "Do you know what I'm here for? You called me here, after all." You shake your head, bashful that you had botched your summoning so awfully.

"... no, Satori, sir. I had, um, I had meant to summon an angel to help me with my math homework." Satori grins, forked tongue poking out between his teeth. With every word you speak, he looks more and more amused.

"And you got me instead, how ironic. You, my love, have summoned a demon." Of course, you had assumed that, it's quite obvious that Satori is nothing close to an angel. Yet, hearing the words, the confirmation, slithering off of his tongue leaves goosebumps. "I'll give you your deepest and darkest desires, darling," Satori drawls, his hand cold over your rib cage. When you shiver, you aren't sure if it's from the temperature or the touch itself. But you want it. The air around you is heavy with want, dark and leaden, weighing on you. 

"Okay," you whisper, because you don't really know what else to say. What else can you say? There is a demon in front of you, on top of you, touching you, kissing you, and he's going to ruin you. There is nothing that you can say. Your body speaks for you, with the way that you tremble beneath Satori, dripping with arousal.

"I know that you want it, pretty. I can smell it on you." Satori leans down, licking a stripe up the side of your neck, inhaling when he gets to the juncture between your jaw and your ear. "I can taste it." He bites at your earlobe, and it provokes a soft moan from you. "I'll eat you up, sweetheart." He sits up a little, just enough to pull you into a kiss, and this, this one is so... heady. Satori tastes so delicious, you just want to drink him up, and kissing him makes your head so cloudy in the best way you've ever felt. No drug could ever make you feel like this. When he pulls away, Satori leaves one hand on your jaw, and the other on your stomach slides up to cup your breast, squeezing firmly, but gently, and heat pools at your stomach. When you gasp, Satori hooks his thumb into your mouth so you can't close it all the way. Drool spills out of the corner.

"Oh, darling, look at you. So gorgeous, already drooling for me. Do you like how I taste, pretty?" You nod, tears pricking at your eyes, his words so sickly sweet, condescending in the most addicting way possible. "Of course you do. My spit is an aphrodisiac. Don't you feel it, sweetheart? Feel yourself go dumb with every taste?" A strangled sound leaves your throat, so desperate already. Satori laughs, so amused by your pathetic tears. You watch as he gathers spit on his forked tongue, watch as he leans over you and lets the spit from his tongue drip into your mouth. Immediately, the fruity taste explodes across your tongue and you whine at him, thighs clenching together. Your skin feels so hot, feverish and sweaty and you haven't really even done anything yet. 

"Look at you," Satori drawls as you moan at his touch. He caresses your cheek so gently compared to his words. "So pathetic, just lying here, letting me touch you. Looking so innocent but you're a little whore, aren't you? You even let me spit in your mouth, how disgusting!" The smooth pads of his fingers leave your cheek, only to connect harshly once again with a loud smack. The moan you let out is desperate, and sounds foreign even to your own ears.

He had slapped you, and you liked it.

Satori stands and roughly drags you to the edge of the bed, and you squeal in surprise. It's a little frightening, how his demeanour has hardened, but you're still wet and throbbing, and heat still flows through your body. You find that you enjoy being manhandled like this. It makes you feel like prey, and perhaps you are.

Gripping your waist, Satori fingers the edges of your pyjama shorts, grinning when you look up at him with teary eyes. The bulge in his pants is huge, and your cunt squeezes with the thought of something so big inside of you. He takes the waistband of your shorts and pulls, not hard enough to rip them, but it hurts a little when he yanks them off, and a part of you hopes that he handles you roughly enough tonight to leave bruises. With this, you feel surprised. You've never really had thoughts like this before. 

You feel corrupted.

Once your shorts are off, Satori sighs, one hand splayed over your hipbone and the other softly running up the wet patches on your underwear. "Have you ever been touched here before, darling?"

 You squirm in his hold, cunt sensitive already. "Um," you stutter, toes curling when he presses just the tiniest bit harder at your clit. "Kind of, I guess," While you weren't a virgin, you most definitely haven't felt anything like this before. Satori only smiles.

"I don't know about that," he says, moving your panties to the side. He settles lower onto the bed, closer to your abdomen, and kisses lightly at your stomach. "I don't think you've ever been touched like this before, not with the way that you're so responsive. Satori kisses at your hipbone, licks at the crease between your thigh and your cunt. You gasp when he blows cool air over your pussy. "You smell too pure. Sweet. Like cherries." And he inhales, just slightly, but you can hear it and your hole clenches around nothing, heat swelling in your stomach. You don't think you've ever been so wet before.

"I think I want to ruin you,"

Satori's nails are sharp against the flesh of your thighs, and a part of you wants him to make you bleed. Slowly, you can feel the darkness swirl through the haze of your mind, and you find yourself desiring things that you've never thought of before. When Satori uses his nail to poke sharply at the sensitive skin of your clit, you jerk, and it hurts, but it's good. You don't know what has gotten into you.

"God," you sigh, when he licks up your slit, but Satori shudders at that, a guttural growl leaving his throat. His teeth snap, and he looks up at you with dark eyes. The grip on your thigh has gotten tighter, almost breaking the skin, and your chest is full with arousal.

"Darling," Satori speaks coldly, and you know that you are in trouble. "Do you think it was smart to say such a word around me? Did you forget what I am?" He rises, his fingers still digging into your thigh while the other wraps tightly around your throat. You can still breathe, but it's difficult and there's pressure against your skull. It makes you a little light-headed, and your heart jumps in a pleasurable sort of fear.

"No, Satori, sir, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." you struggle to get out, but you do and he smiles, kissing hungrily at the corners of your mouth and your jawline.

"What a good girl you are, sweetheart. Of course, you weren't thinking, how could I forget how dumb I've made you for me? Just drooling and crying because you're so wet. Pathetic." You whimper at his words, diamond tears in your eyes, because he's right. There are no thoughts in your brain besides arousal and want, the desire for Satori to touch and corrupt you. Satori squeezes at your throat, just a little, but enough for your cunt to clench desperately. He leaves you with a light smack to your cheek, settling down between your legs once again. Instead of pushing them to the side, Satori takes your panties off this time, tugging them off roughly. His hands travel up your thighs, fingers digging so deliciously into your soft flesh. You look down only to see Satori looking at you like he wants to devour you.

And maybe you want him to.

"Fuck," he curses, eyes trained hungrily on your glistening cunt. "You look so appetizing, sweetheart. Gonna eat you right up," And Satori licks at your pussy like he's paid to do it, like he's born for it, and nobody's ever eaten you out before, but Satori quickly has you seeing stars with the way he puts pressure on your clit with his tongue. You sob in his hold, thighs quivering with the way that he eats you out. Soon, he takes a hand off of your thigh to slide a finger between your folds, using your wetness to slick it up enough to slide sweetly into your cunt, and it's only one finger but it presses against your walls and you wail beneath him. You've only ever been fingered once, and it wasn't that good, even with two fingers. Yet, even with just one, you're feeling ten times more pleasure than you ever had before, even by yourself. You squeeze around him as he still sucks on your clit, working a second finger inside of you. Even with his mouth busy, you can feel Satori grin against your cunt, so amused and satisfied with your reactions. When he presses his fingers against your sweet spot, you cry out, hands flying down to grip at his hair. Satori groans, and it's so deep and terrifying, but your toes curl and you feel so so close.

"Satori," you gasp, tears trailing down your cheeks. "Satori, please, wanna feel good, 'm close Satori," and he doesn't respond, can't really with his face buried in your cunt, but suddenly, he works a third finger in and you can't hold it anymore, and you gush around his fingers. He laps it right up, moaning into your pussy, and oh, you must taste good, then, if he's cleaning you up so eagerly. When he licks at your bud again, you jerk, still sensitive, crying out sweetly. It hurts, so you push at his head, but he insists on staying right where he is, with you trembling under him. He keeps the pads of his fingers pressed snugly against your sensitive walls while he continues to suck at your clit, and it's so so much, has you shaking and squirming to get away, but Satori lays his arm over your hips to hold you down. You can feel another orgasm building, and its much too soon. You sniffle beneath him, in tears with overstimulation, but there's amusement in his eyes when he looks up at your ruined face and you know he isn't going to stop until you come again.

"Can't, Satori, no more," you beg, hands pulling at his hair. He only grins into your cunt, fingers working you harder. "Please, no, I can't, not again!" You're sobbing and shaking but his fingers keep moving faster and harder, and when he pulls away from your clit to change his angle, you can feel it even more. "Oh, Satori, it's too much!" But he's smiling hungrily, teeth sharp and terrifying.

"But you love it, darling. Love being ruined, don't you? Wouldn't be so wet if you didn't." His fingers press in all the right places, and suddenly you can feel yourself rolling over the edge once more, and you can't hold it in. You squeal as you squirt all over yourself and his arm, trembling with overstimulation, and you can hardly breathe with the impact of your orgasm. Satori really loves it though, and it seems like with each orgasm that he brought you, his eyes got brighter, like he was feeding off of your pleasure, and maybe he was. He's a demon, after all.

"Fuck," you curse, and your legs twitch with every after-wave of arousal, cunt throbbing with the force of your orgasm. Slowly, Satori slides his fingers out of your sopping cunt, and his arm is dripping, something that you never would have thought you would see, and you clench when he looks you in the eyes and licks at the slick trailing down his forearm. You whimper, head falling back, where you're propped up on your elbows, and your inner thighs burn where Satori has forced them open. 

"So good for me, princess," Satori says coyly, as he continues to lick up your slick. "Taste so delicious, I really want to eat you up, now. Nobody's ever made you do that before, huh? Made your little cunny squirt?" You whimper and shake your head, hands curled up towards your chest, breathless. "Cute," he comments, and he pets himself over his black jeans. He had never alluded to his own pleasure this entire time, that you almost forgot what tends to happen next, and suddenly you get shy, and a little scared.

"Darling," Satori coos when he notices your change in demeanour. "There's no point in being afraid," he laughs, staring straight into your eyes. "I've already ruined you anyways, might as well just take this." You frown, but he's right. He's already made you come twice, and you still feel hot, your cunt is still throbbing and begging to be filled. There is nothing more that you can do but take Satori's cock. 

He's knelt over you, thighs straddling your ribs when he takes his cock out. It's so close to your face, and you go cross-eyed staring at it. Satori is big and thick, and you don't know how he's going to fit anywhere. You've never done more than a handjob before, much less given a blowjob or taken cock in your pussy before. You gaze up at him, worried, but that only serves to make it better for him, you can see the way his eyes get a little more lidded when he looks at you. "Satori, sir," you murmur.

"Yes, sweetheart?" But he already knows what you're going to say. He strokes himself above you, and his precum drips onto your chest, just barely missing where your sleep shirt is scrunched up under your underarms. You whimper, just a quiet little noise, but of course, Satori hears you. He smiles deviously, and takes his cock and rubs it on your breasts, making a mess of you with his precum. "Darling," Satori groans, oh so condescending. "Looks like you've got a little something on you, what a messy girl. Pathetic." You moan at his words, humiliated, but it feels good. With your panties off and your shirt rucked up, you feel so exposed, and you find that you love this feeling of helplessness. Satori strokes his cock again and scoots up your chest just enough so that the tip of his cock rests just at your lips. "Since you're so disgusting, I think you should clean me up. You've made this mess, after all. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. It's only fair."

Your lips wobble preciously, on the verge of tears as you gaze up at Satori with glistening eyes. "But," you whisper, a gentle frown on your face. "I don't know how to do that, Satori, sir. I've never... never done that before." And Satori, he smiles wider at you, and you can see the way that glee swells within his eyes, and oh, you realise, cunt throbbing, oh. He gets off on this. Satori gets off on the idea that you're innocent. That you're a virgin. He wants to destroy you, corrupt you, ruin you for anyone else. He wants to take something away from you that nobody else can get after. It's his. He, Satori, is the one who ruined you. Somebody else can fuck your tight cunt, can taste you, can feel your lips on them, but he had it first. 

But its okay, you think, because you want Satori to ruin you, too. 

"Good," he whispers, before his cock is pressing more insistently against your lips. Reluctantly, you open your mouth, and you're a little worried, you don't know how to cover your teeth or take him in or anything, but you know that it'll be okay in the end. Satori will teach you. "Good," he repeats, headier, as he slides just the very tip between your lips, and while maybe you are a little inexperienced, you aren't innocent either, and you know what feels good, so you swirl your tongue tentatively around the head, tongue dipping precariously into the slit. Satori groans above you, and you can feel the muscles on his thighs tense under your palms as he resists the urge to completely sheath himself down your throat. "Fuck," Satori curses, and suddenly, his hands are in your hair, gripping hard, and his eyes are glowing. You cry out in a surprised moan, the hold on your hair bringing diamond tears back to the corners of your eyes. "So fucking good, darling, what a good whore for me," he says, and in the same breath, he's shoving his cock a little bit further into your mouth. You choke, just slightly, but recover quickly, and you try your hardest to focus on keeping your teeth covered and making him feel good, eyes squeezed shut. Just slightly, you press your tongue right under the head, and his cock jerks in your mouth, and god, you think you can feel your pussy leaking.

Your body is warm and tingling, even as you choke so gorgeously on Satori's cock. He's not even in all the way, and you're already gagging, your throat just not used to taking something so big inside. Now, he's just let go, pays no mind to your breath or your jaw, lost in the pleasure of the wet heat of your mouth. Even though it's difficult, you try to work your tongue as he fucks your throat, and you can't really swirl it, at least not now with such a low skill level, but you manage to press it against the underside of his cock, the pressure catching just under the head of his cock every time he pulls out, and he groans, grip on your hair tightening. You feel so used and normally you would be disgusted by this, but all you can really think about is how you want this always, how you want to be Satori's, his sweet puppy knelt at his side where you belong and, and you have no idea where this is coming from. It feels like you're intoxicated, the only things that run through your head is the way that Satori's cock smells, his touch, how you want him to split you open forever and ever. 

"Oh," Satori groans, and suddenly you're brought back to the real world. You had floated away at some point, you aren't quite sure when, but you're finally aware of your surroundings again. "Poor baby, got fucked so dumb she forgot what she was doing, sweet thing." It's now that you realise that your jaw had gone completely slack, lips no longer wrapped tightly around his cock. Your tongue just rests dead in your mouth, and you really had just checked out, thinking about how much you wanted Satori. Let him fuck your sloppy mouth, too dumb to even do anything. 

"'M sorry," you gasp when he pulls out. You feel a little bad, but it seems like he liked it. Liked that you couldn't even think and just let him do whatever he wanted. But you don't mind. Satori can do whatever he wants to you whenever he wants. Your saliva drips from his cock onto you breasts, and Satori looks feral on top of you.

"Its okay, darling," Satori coos, taking your breasts in his hands and squeezing, sucking in a breath at the way they glisten with all the spit and precum smeared on your skin. "I already know what you need. I can smell it on you. Your poor cunny is absolutely dripping for my cock, and I know that you want it too, don't you?" You cry out and nod, because you do. You need it so bad. 

"Please," you whisper, and you sound so desperate and wrecked that you almost didn't recognise your own voice. "Satori, sir, please. Need it so bad, so bad." You start to cry, then, and your cunt is throbbing and you want to be filled so badly, all of these feelings are so overwhelming. Satori hushes you with his mouth, using his tongue to spread your lips apart. He pulls away and slides off of you to grip your thighs and press them as far as he can towards your chest. 

"Okay, darling," Satori drawls, a feral grin showing off his sharp teeth. "Gonna ruin you real good," He moves forward, taking one hand off of your thigh to line himself up with you fluttering cunt. Your thighs shake in anticipation, you've never had anything like this inside of you before, and you're so scared but also incredibly excited. And you can feel it, too, when the head of Satori's cock presses against your hole. Your pussy throbs, and it's right there and you can feel it. So so close to having his cock inside of you, you squirm, moving your hips to try and work the head in some more, just a little bit, anything! Satori laughs at your efforts. 

 Satori coos at you. "That's cute, sweetheart, wanna be filled so badly? Take it then." He pushes himself all the way in.

You cry out, and it fucking burns, but his head hits just above your cervix so mind-numbingly that you don't even care, body seizing in an addictive mixture of pain and pleasure and you can hear yourself gasping, but you can't feel yourself breathe. Satori curses above you, leaning into his thrust to fill himself as deep inside you as possible. It's almost like you can feel him in your stomach, he's so big and pressing so deep, you feel much more full than any vibrator could ever grant you. It's so good, even more so when Satori pulls back out and slams himself inside once again, leaving you to cream delicately all over his cock.

"Fuck," Satori groans, his grip tightening on the flesh of your thighs as you flutter around him. You sob, reaching up to grab at him, needing something, anything to ground you. Taking your left hand in his, Satori presses your arm above your head, and even though your other hand is gripping hard on his shoulder, you feel so helpless. Your second orgasm did absolutely nothing to help with the heat in your stomach and with the way that Satori continues to fuck your tight heat has you bracing yourself for your next orgasm.

"Fuck, Darling," Satori curses again, pulling out to carelessly flip you over onto your stomach. One hand presses between your shoulder blades to keep your upper body flush with the mattress, and the other grabs your hips and settles you on your knees. A part of you must have forgotten what he is, and you were shocked with the way he just lifted you like you were nothing, but his roughness only led to arousal, and you sob as he pounds you into the mattress. "Cute, sweetheart," Satori coos, hand sliding from your back to grip your hair and pull. You moan loudly, and you've never felt a feeling of pain and pleasure like this before, and you think that it's something you may become addicted to. "Love being manhandled like this, huh? Who's gonna think you're innocent now, hmm? Such a dirty girl, now, getting off to being pushed around and bruised. Ruined for anybody else." Satori leans down, then, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. "This is all mine, isn't it, love?"

"Yeah," you respond, breathless with the way that Satori thrusts into you, "yes, Satori, sir. All yours," It's difficult to speak and your words stutter and slur, between the drool dripping down your chin and how Satori is fucking you mindless, but you hope it gets the point across. You don't know. You can't really think. Satori nips at your earlobe and growls into your ear.

"Good." And then he pulls your hair so hard you have to bring your back flush with his chest, and his other hand wraps deliciously around your throat as he holds you up against him. Before, you could never understand how anyone would like to be treated so roughly during sex, the thought of being choked was terrifying to you, but here you are now, eyes fluttering delicately as you can hardly breathe from the hand on your throat and Satori's hips. It feels so fucking good, and you don't think anyone else could ever make you feel this way. You feel drunk on Satori's existence, and your cunt squeezes so nicely around him at that. 

"Please," you beg, just barely able to get your words out. That feeling is there again, and you know that you're close, but you want Satori to come first. "Please," you repeat, just as broken as before. You try to move your hips yourself, just a little, but Satori only laughs.

"Sweet thing, trying so hard, but you've been pounded too stupid for that, hmm darling? Can't even speak, poor girl." He speaks so highly, but you can tell that he's close too, with the way that his hips stutter, and he sounds a little breathless himself. You only squeeze harder around him, half on purpose and half because the way he speaks to you is so addicting. His groans are deep and they're getting a little feral, and it's so fucking hot, his nails dig into your skin and it hurts so good, his thrusts become so erratic and he's louder and growling and, and-

Warm liquid spurts into your cunt and his cock pulses inside of you and that, that, sends you over the edge, and you cream over his cock once again as he comes inside of you.

Satori lets go of you, gently placing you face down on the bed, and finally, you can breathe again. Your chest is heaving as you lie there, and when he slowly pulls out, you can feel his cum drip out of you. Whining, you squirm at the feeling, mind too hazy to do anything about it. "Sweetheart," Satori murmurs, running his fingers through your hair, shushing you. "I'll run a bath to clean you up. Feeling okay?" You only whine again, toes curling in embarrassment. That was so... you were so... dirty. But Satori only laughs softly at you, nothing close to the degrading laugh you heard earlier. 

"No worries, darling, I'll take care of you."